


Through the Blinds

by LivelyColorfulWorld



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, He is struggling, Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Vampires, the holy trinity, this is litearlly 25k words of jisung being the worst vampire known to man idk what to tell you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:33:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28227705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivelyColorfulWorld/pseuds/LivelyColorfulWorld
Summary: “I’m a fuckingbat!” Jisung finally screams.Chenle blinks. “You’re a fucking bat,” he whispers in a daze. “Holy shit, that’s kinda cool.”(Or: After waking up in an alleyway with two bite wounds on his neck, Jisung's stuck trying to navigate a life full of sudden blood cravings and weird abilities that hedefinitelydidn't have before. Luckily, Chenle's there to help him out, for better or worse.)
Relationships: Park Jisung/Zhong Chen Le
Comments: 40
Kudos: 317
Collections: NCTV Secret Santa 2020





	Through the Blinds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jinnieshyun (angelsouls)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsouls/gifts).



> hello reya!!!  
> thank you for such a fantastic prompt !! admittedly i've never written vampires before so this was a bit of a challenge, but i hope you like it anyways:]  
> also yeah,,, this is kinda long,,,, it really got away from me loll but yes i hope it's a good read <3

Jisung wakes up to darkness and an ache in his neck. He’s freezing, but he can barely focus on that, more preoccupied with trying to peel his eyes fully open. 

Did he fall asleep in Chenle’s room again? Chenle always closes all of the blinds in his room, despite Jisung’s complaints and the amount of stubbed toes they both suffer from because _apparently_ Chenle doesn’t believe in this magical thing called “light.”

He blinks once, twice, and the darkness gives way to blinding bursts of bright reds and yellows that make his head throb. Where is he? 

He brings a hand up to rub at his eyes, before he realizes his hands are sticky. Jisung wipes them on his jeans, but the stickiness doesn’t go away, though it does leave a faint dark-colored trail on the denim. After a second failed attempt of trying to rub off the sticky substance coating his fingers, he slowly drags himself into a sitting position, eyesight still adjusting to his surroundings. There are brick walls on either side of him, and the stench of copper hangs heavy in the air. 

It’s strange, Jisung supposes, because he can’t remember how he got here, in the middle of an alley in Seoul. He had just returned from dance practice and was going to grab some ramen because of _course_ Chenle ate the last cup. He didn’t leave late, maybe 11 or so, but judging from the quiet whir of the occasional car and drunken laughter ringing out from the streets, it’s now far later than 11.

If he’s in the city, does that mean he never returned to the apartment last night? God, Chenle’s going to freak out. Jisung winces at the thought and reaches into his jacket pocket for his phone, only to find that the screen is shattered, and no matter how many times he presses the power button, the dark screen still stares back at him. 

The next best course of action would be to trudge home and figure this all out in the morning. But each time he tries to move his legs, they flop pathetically back onto the pavement. There’s a dull sting on the side of his neck, and he reaches a tentative finger to the spot. Under the pad of his finger, he feels two crusted-over wounds, and the skin around them just as sticky as his fingers.

Jisung’s throat goes dry. 

Swallowing thickly, he plants his hands on the ground to stabilize himself, only for his hands to make contact with some kind of liquid. Straightening himself up again, he brings a hand up to his eyes to inspect it, and in the dim light, he realizes what the mysterious liquid is. 

_Blood._

And judging from how utterly alone Jisung seems to be, it has to be _his_ blood. 

“Did someone try to kill me?” Jisung asks, as if the city around him would answer. 

A car whizzes by, and Jisung feels like crying. 

“I think they did a pretty damn good job of that, kid.”

Jisung’s head snaps towards the source of the voice behind him, and a lithe man emerges from the shadows, his eyes glowing a dark red.

“You!” Jisung scrambles backwards, wincing when his hand splashes into the puddle of blood underneath him. “You tried to kill me!”

The man rolls his eyes and takes another step forward. “Not me. This work is way too sloppy to be me.” He eyes the blood, his lip curled in disgust. “Such a mess. Wasteful, really.”

“How—what’s going on?” Jisung’s voice is trembling, and he’s pretty sure the rest of his body is, too. “Is this my blood?”

The man nods, his expression almost pitiful before hardening as he glances away from Jisung and towards the sky. “You might want to get up soon. The sun is coming up in a couple of hours.”

“I—” It comes out like a squeak, and Jisung clears his throat when the man cocks an amused eyebrow at Jisung. “I can’t move.” It sounds as pathetic as Jisung feels, and the man sighs. 

“Of course.” He moves towards Jisung, and Jisung flinches at the sudden close proximity. The man crouches next to Jisung, more cautious than before to avoid frightening Jisung further. “Can you grab my arm?” 

Jisung exhales shakily and reaches out a hand to grip the man’s outstretched arm. The man slowly hauls him to his feet, catching him when his legs nearly collapse underneath him. 

“Take off your jacket and leave it here. You look like a walking crime scene.”

Jisung scowls. This is his favorite jacket; he’s had it for four years now, since sophomore year of high school. But a quick look down at the sleeves tells him that the man is right; there’s dried blood streaked down the fabric, way too much to someone to brush it off as the result of a normal wound. He heaves a sigh and does as he’s told. Just as he’s about to drop it into the ground, he suddenly realizes, _can’t he be traced using the jacket?_ He isn’t sure what _thing_ is after him, but it’s definitely ruthless. 

“Won’t they still find me? With the jacket or something?”

The man scoffs. “They’re not _werewolves_ ,” he says, and Jisung honestly can’t tell if he’s joking. The bite in his voice when he spits out the word momentarily transports Jisung back to Chenle’s _Twilight_ phase when they were twelve. Chenle was very adamant about Edward being the best fit for Bella. Jisung really didn’t know jackshit about the series and honestly found the little he did know pretty stupid, but he always loved to indulge Chenle’s rambles anyways. 

(Chenle had insisted they marathon the entire film series one summer. Jisung had ended up more confused than when they began.) 

“Plus,” the man continues, tearing Jisung out of his thoughts, “they don't care about you. They got their meal and left.” 

“Meal?” Jisung echoes soullessly, and his legs turn to jelly, threatening to collapse underneath him again and send him sailing towards the unforgiving pavement. Jisung almost feels guilty; at this rate, man is going to have to carry Jisung back to his apartment, and he definitely doesn’t seem strong enough to, if their height difference is anything to go by. 

Luckily, the man notices Jisung’s feeble state and tightens his grip around Jisung’s arm. “Where’s your apartment? Give me directions.”

As soon as Jisung tells him, the man asks, “Do you have motion sickness?”

Jisung frowns. What kind of question is that? “I mean, not really? I really can’t stand rollercoasters if that helps, but I wouldn’t think that would matter? Though I don’t think it’s really the motion part of it that scares me, but more the height—”

“Okay, okay, kid, I get the idea,” the man cuts him off. “If you puke, just don’t puke on me. Hold on tight.”

Jisung drops his jacket onto the ground. The man grins wickedly, and bright, neon lights fade into muted, grey tones as the world around him shifts into one frighteningly familiar to Jisung. As soon as he steadies himself, only slightly nauseous, he realizes he’s standing in the corridor outside his apartment. The walk usually takes at least fifteen minutes—depending on how many times he leaves his things back at the apartment—but it had taken the man and him less than a minute.

What the fuck?

Jisung jumps away from the man, crossing his arms in front of him. “What _are_ you?” He all-but-shrieks, luckily having the decency to lower his volume so he doesn’t wake up literally the entire apartment complex. 

“I’m what you are. A vampire.” 

Jisung stumbles back, all the way until his body collides with the door to his and Chenle’s apartment. If he wasn’t going to pass out earlier, he probably will now. “What the fuck,” he whispers.

“Do you have a pulse?” 

Jisung huffs. “What type of question is that? Of course I do.”

The man sighs in irritation and takes another step towards Jisung. 

Jisung yelps and creates a mock cross with his fingers as he flattens himself against the door behind him. “Don’t come any closer!” He warns, which doesn’t sound very menacing thanks to the way his voice cracks at the end. 

“Kid, I can’t hurt you. You’re already dead.” 

“I’m alive!” Jisung doesn’t bother to lower his voice, letting the panic he feels flood into his words. “I’m walking and breathing and obviously _not_ dead! Don’t come near me! You’re nuts!”

“Hey, kid, please.” The man’s tone is suddenly gentle, as if he’s talking to a wild animal. “I need you to trust me. The sun’s coming up in an hour and you need to get inside safely away from it or you’re going to get badly hurt.”

Jisung slowly lowers his hands to his sides. There are tears brimming in his eyes, and he grips the doorknob to stabilize himself. “Am I—” he swallows, “am I really what you are?” He doesn’t dare say the word, terrified that if he says it out loud, it’ll become true. 

“Yes.” And then the man crosses the final few meters of distance between them, and Jisung simply watches him, a wave of helplessness crashing over him. The man’s hands are ice-cold but soft as he gingerly pries Jisung’s hand away from the doorknob and flips it over. He takes Jisung’s other hand, which is balled at his side, and unclenches it. Holding Jisung’s index finger, he presses it against the inside of Jisung’s other wrist.

Jisung waits. He waits to feel the familiar thudding pulse of his heart, pulse that should be racing, quick and heavy against his skin.

But it never comes. It’s still.

“I’m dead,” Jisung breathes, feeling too dazed to string together anything else. His head is spinning. He chokes-in a breath and laughs despite himself. “Holy shit, I’m dead.”

“That you are.” The man lets Jisung’s hands drop to his side and steps back. 

“How am I going to tell people?” He sags against the door, burying his face in his hands. “What the hell happened when I was trying to get fucking _ramen_?”

“It’s not safe here.” There are footsteps, faint rustling in the distance, and Jisung finally looks up to see the man perched on the railings of the staircase leading to the floor below them. “I need to go, and so do you.”

“Wait!” When the man turns around, Jisung asks, “Can I—where can I find you again?”

The man smiles, all sharp teeth and gums. “You won’t.”

There's a flurry of black and red, and when Jisung blinks, the man is gone, having vanished into thin air. The apartment complex is silent.

Jisung presses his palm against his chest. It’s silent, too.

—

The next day, Jisung only pokes his head out of his unnaturally pitch-dark, miserable excuse of a room to console a screaming Chenle. 

Apparently the hastily scribbled note Jisung left on top of Chenle’s snoring figure wasn't enough to lessen Chenle’s panic. The guilt sets in as soon as he sees the dark bags under Chenle’s eyes. 

Chenle, who had apparently forgone studying for his goddamn _chemistry midterm_ in favor of calling Jisung 78 times (he made sure to show Jisung his phone history) and sending Jisung over 300 texts. Jisung silently hopes his shattered iPhone 11 lying in an obscure alley somewhere in Seoul is doing okay. 

“I got lost,” Jisung tells him, the words like lead on his tongue. 

“For, what, _six_ hours?” Chenle’s hands are on his hips, and he’s fixing Jisung with such a withering glare that Jisung retreats a bit further back into his room so only his face is peeking through. 

“My phone died. I’m sorry, Le.”

“Sung, I thought _you_ died! ”

And _oh_ , the irony of that statement is almost too much to bear. Jisung keeps his mouth shut. 

“Couldn’t you have tried to contact me? Or woken me up when you got back?”

Jisung shifts uneasily. “You have a test today. I wanted to make sure you got sleep.” He silently adds on _I didn’t know how to explain why I smelled like blood and that I’m practically dead._

“Sung.” Chenle runs a hand through his hair, yanking at the strands, and Jisung can’t bring himself to meet Chenle’s gaze. 

“Sung,” he repeats. 

Jisung nods in acknowledgement, head still ducked and staring at his feet. 

“Sung, look at me.”

Chenle’s tone is so insistent, almost as if he’s begging. Jisung still doesn’t look up, scared of what he’ll see if he does. But then he hears a frustrated yell, and snaps his head up to see Chenle raking a hand over his face. 

“I’m sorry,” Jisung whispers. And he really is. He’s sorry for a lot of things, things outside of his control and things he can’t tell Chenle. 

Chenle tilts his head up towards the ceiling, eyes closed, before slowly exhaling through his teeth and meeting Jisung’s gaze. 

“I’m not gonna be back home until late. I have a club meeting today.”

“Oh.” Jisung opens his mouth to at least tell him good luck on his midterm, but Chenle’s already stomping out of the apartment, yanking the door shut behind him. 

He wants to run after Chenle, grab his hand and apologize for how insufferable he’s being. He wants to hug Chenle, hold him close to his chest and card his fingers through Chenle’s blond hair and tell him just how much Chenle means to him and he would never purposely make Chenle worry. 

But he can’t. He can’t do any of that. Because Chenle will feel the lack of heartbeat in Jisung’s chest, and then he’ll realize just _what_ Jisung is. The thought terrifies him to no end. 

Chenle isn’t one to be fazed by supernatural creatures. Jisung isn’t concerned about that. 

No, it’s terrifying because Chenle _hunts_ said supernatural creatures. 

It had started out as a fun little club. Chenle had always been fascinated with the supernatural, but something about the hunting aspect must’ve drawn him in, because one day Chenle was pushing a surprisingly well-done flyer into his hands, advertising a supernatural creature hunting club. Jisung had giggled at the sight, and Chenle had kicked his shin in return. 

“This is the future, Sungie, I’m telling you.”

Jisung had snorted. “Okay, Le. Good luck finding things to hunt. Make sure not to nab the biochem professor by accident; he’s super pale, but I’m pretty sure it’s because he never leaves his house or the lab, not because he’s a vampire or something.”

Chenle had visibly deflated. “Way to shit on my dreams."

Despite the initial mishaps, Chenle has been running the club for nearly two years now. He’s especially secretive about who is in the club. Which really doesn't make sense, because Jisung’s pretty sure there are only three other people in the club besides Chenle himself, but Jisung never found it in himself to care enough to pry. All he knows is that the club sometimes causes Chenle to come home in the early hours of the morning, on “late night hunts” or whatever Chenle calls it, but he never thinks anything of it because Chenle is good with letting him know. 

He honestly still questions the validity of such a club, but he’d rather not find out first-hand. He once didn’t believe in the supernatural creatures Chenle would tell him about, but just a look in the mirror was enough to prove to him that such supernatural creatures really did exist, and that Chenle’s club might have some truth to it. 

It’s like seeing the world in a new perspective. Jisung’s suddenly confused by this bombardment of new information, information he wouldn’t have even believed had it not directly affected him. 

He also kind of hates the new perspective, he’s not going to lie. Ignorance is bliss and all that jazz. There’s too much to think about. 

After lying in his bed for another hour, staring up at his ceiling and pushing down the guilt of leaving his partner, Sungchan, alone in the bio lab, he finally musters up enough energy to leave his room. To do what? He isn’t exactly sure. He isn’t particularly hungry, which is strange, since it’s been over fifteen hours since he last ate anything, but staring at the little food in their fridge seemed more exciting than staring at the peeling plaster of his ceiling. 

Could he run away? Would that guarantee any safety? Nothing could happen if no one could find him. Plus, it doesn’t seem like he can feel hunger, so that would be one less thing to account for. He didn’t have much money, though. _And_ he would end up feeling guilty for disappearing on Chenle for the second time in 24 hours.

So no, that wasn’t an option.

Jisung pulls a carton of orange juice out of the fridge and pours himself a glass. He props himself up on the kitchen counter and swings his legs, taking slow, leisurely sips from the cup. It tastes like cardboard, but Jisung’s pretty sure the off-brand juice has always tasted like that.

It hasn’t been long since he returned to the apartment from wherever the hell he was, but being cooped up feels especially confining. He doesn’t mind being alone, loves it, even, but now thoughts and concerns won’t stop intruding on the comfortable silence he usually enjoys.

As Jisung washes out his glass, he eyes the blinds across the room from him, in the living area where he and Chenle sometimes sit to do homework. He misses the sunlight. 

It can’t hurt to open them, right? It isn’t direct sunlight like the man was worried about; it’s at least somewhat blocked by the window. Plus, it’ll be a much-needed reprieve from the darkness and artificial lights throughout the apartment.

He turns off the tap and dries the cup before taking a few, cautious steps towards the window. A sliver of sunlight streams through the cracks, and every part of Jisung is suddenly aching to feel its warmth. He’s curious. He wants to open them just a bit, to see how it goes. 

Just as Jisung’s hand hovers over the cord, he pauses. Will this end up okay? He then scoffs to himself. To be frank, he’s _bored_ and the curiosity is beginning to eat away at him.

With a twist of the cord, he opens the blinds.

A guttural scream rips through Jisung’s throat, a hand flying up to shield his face from the sharp, burning sensation currently flooding his senses. He falls to the ground, desperately trying to escape the bright light. His head is buzzing and he can’t think straight, panic and pain all mingling together into an agonizing cacophony.

Jisung’s able to crawl away far enough that his body no longer feels like it’s on fire. He blinks the tears out of his eyes and wills himself to focus down at his hand, which took the brunt of the force. His palm is a bright, angry red, pain shooting through his wrist and forearm.

That was a really fucking bad idea.

He sits there on the ground for a minute, glaring at the sunlight while nursing his injured palm. Really, he feels a bit scammed that despite the whole ‘vampire’ thing, he can still feel pain, and a whole _lot_ of it. 

When he’s able to drag himself off of the ground, he stumbles away towards the sink and runs his palm under cold water, not bothering to contain the hisses that escape his lips. After carefully patting it dry, he wraps gauze around the burn. Jisung absently thinks he’s lucky it’s not his dominant hand, but then again, but then again, what would he be doing with his hands right now? He can’t go to classes, not when he shows such an extreme reaction to mere sunlight. 

He has night classes, sure, but is it even safe? What else is hiding in the night? Vampires, the man had mentioned goddamn _werewolves_ , and then supernatural hunters like Chenle. That alone is enough to send Jisung into another bout of terror.

When the sunlight disappears for just a minute thanks to the clouds drifting by, Jisung races over to the window and shuts the blinds with so much force they rattle against the glass windows. He stumbles over to the light switch and flicks it on, and _finally_ breathes a sigh of relief. Grabbing his laptop from where it’s sitting on the coffee table, he curls up into the farthest corner of the sofa. He has to try to do some kind of research.

It’s nearly ten when Chenle comes back to their apartment, kicking the door shut behind him. It’s fairly early for Chenle to return from one of his hunts, but Jisung missed his company, even if Chenle was probably going to ignore him and go to his own room. 

Jisung is slowly tapping on his computer, one key at a time with his uninjured hand. It’s a tedious process, but the last time he tried typing with his burnt hand, a few hours ago, he had to bite his lip to prevent himself from yelling in pain. 

When it comes to vampires, the internet is filled with Wikipedia articles and lore from at least thirty different movies, many of which conflict with each other to no end. He had given up on trying to learn about whatever he was, instead trying to figure out who exactly was the man he saw the night before. Of course, researching such things on the _internet_ is about as effective as the time Jisung’s cousin, Donghyuck, threw a rose taped onto a brick at his crush’s window in an attempt to ask him out. 

Jisung glares at the Twilight wiki currently pulled up on his screen before closing the tab. 

He hears Chenle’s footsteps as he walks into the kitchen, rummaging through cabinets before swinging the door shut. Jisung doesn’t look away from his laptop screen, instead typing out nonsense in his google search bar in an attempt to seem like he’s busy and definitely not paying attention to Chenle’s every move. 

In the corner of his eye, he sees Chenle disappear into his room, and he closes his laptop in sync with the closing of Chenle’s door. He places the laptop next to him and leans back against the cushion of the sofa, wringing his fingers, before abruptly standing up. How long could he keep this up? When Chenle found out, what would he do to Jisung? 

He paces around the kitchen, gnawing on his lower lip. He should probably tell Chenle. Chenle will find out eventually; it isn’t like Jisung is any good at keeping secrets. But then again, whenever those secrets come out, it always ends badly. 

Last year he accidentally let it slip that he had the smallest, tiniest, crush on Jaemin, a sophomore he had met in his organic chemistry class, and Chenle had not only been weirdly distant for nearly three months, but he simultaneously insisted for Jisung to confess his feelings and “date someone for once.” He had succumbed to the peer pressure while in the snack aisle in a Family Mart with Jaemin. It ended with Jaemin awkwardly trying to explain that while he was flattered, he had been dating someone for a while now, and Jisung was too much like a “baby brother” to him. Truly a mortifying, unforgettable experience. Jisung stopped going to that Family Mart after the incident. 

There’s the creak of a door opening, footsteps, and Jisung doesn’t dare to turn around to the direction of the sound. He stares at the cabinet in front of him as if the chipped wood is the most interesting thing in the world. 

“What happened?”

It takes Jisung an embarrassing moment to realize Chenle’s talking to him, and he spins around, eyebrows furrowed in confusion but a wave of relief flooding over him at the fact that _Chenle is talking to him._ Meanwhile, Chenle’s gaze is fixed on Jisung’s bandaged hand.

“Oh, I burned myself on a, uh—” Jisung glances around the kitchen, searching for an appliance that he could use as a scapegoat. “—toaster,” Jisung finishes lamely.

“How did you burn your entire hand on a toaster?” 

“It was a big toaster.”

“Let me see your hand.” Chenle holds out his own hands, raising his eyebrows expectantly at Jisung. 

“No!” Jisung shrieks, pulling his hand into his chest. The sting isn’t as bad as it was earlier, but he’s sure the wound is deep enough that Chenle will panic and insist to go to get the burn professionally checked out. 

Hurt flashes in Chenle’s eyes, and Jisung‘s stomach knots together at the sight. 

“Sung,” Chenle sighs, “let me see. If it’s really bad, we need to clean it and apply gel at least because god knows you definitely didn’t.” 

Chenle’s right. He didn’t. He’s not another one of those aspiring med students for a reason; that’s Chenle’s area of expertise. 

Jisung clenches his eyes shut and reluctantly holds out his hand. He feels the gauze slowly unravel from around his palm, Chenle’s touch more gentle than Jisung deserves because of how much he’s lying to Chenle and—

“What burn?”

Jisung’s eyes snap open and soon, he’s gawking at his perfectly-healed hand, the flesh unmarred as if the burn was never there. That‘s new. “You—you cured it!” Jisung shrieks with just an edge of hysteria. “Thanks!”

Chenle gives him a strange look. “That’s not how burns work?”

Jisung laughs louder than necessary. “Go figure!”

“Sung, your hands are freezing. They’re never this cold.” Chenle’s fingers wrap around his, the warmth bleeding through his skin easing some of the tension out of Jisung’s shoulders. “Are you feeling okay?”

Jisung pauses. This would be a good time to tell Chenle, just rip the band-aid off and confess everything that’s going on. The worst that could happen is Chenle would come after him with a stake or something. And then Jisung would probably have to flee Korea for his life. 

Or, gazing down at Chenle's concerned face, he realizes a far worse scenario. They might argue, and Jisung might lose control, because god knows what he’s capable of in this state. He could hurt Chenle. Chenle could be the one lying in a dingy alley in the middle of Seoul, bleeding out for hours. And it would be Jisung’s fault. He can’t afford that risk. Nothing is worth that risk.

“I’m fine,” Jisung finally chokes out. “Everything’s okay.”

Chenle doesn’t look so convinced. But he must see the panic in Jisung’s eyes, practically begging Chenle to believe him, so he lets it go. “How were classes?”

“Didn’t go,” Jisung admits. 

“Yeah I know. Sungchan complained about you. Just wanted you to fess up.” Chenle smiles widely and Jisung hits his shoulder, and then it’s easy to fall into normal conversation again. 

“Did your midterm go okay?”

Chenle nods. “Wasn’t bad. Really wish our prof wouldn't give us twenty different questions on acid-bases, but it went well.”

“Is this the professor that Sungchan accidentally sent a video of himself drunk off his ass to?” 

“The very one.” Chenle giggles with a grin and Jisung finds himself smiling as well. Chenle’s happiness is always contagious like that. Jisung reaches down to intertwine his fingers with Chenle’s, and the ever-present warmth of Chenle’s hand, his heartbeat steady, makes Jisung feel more alive than he’s felt in the past day.

“Not that I mind, but why are you back so early?”

“We finished up earlier than we expected. Plus, I missed you.” Chenle says it so easily, so sincerely that Jisung has to bite his lip in embarrassment and look away, but he squeezes Chenle’s hand just a bit tighter. 

They move to sit on the couch, and Chenle’s about to curl up at Jisung’s side and lay his head on Jisung’s chest, the way they’re usually positioned whenever they decide to ignore their work to talk. Jisung almost lets him, forgetting for a long moment just _what_ he is. 

It hurts him when he forces himself to move away, all the way to the other side of the couch just to be safe. Based on the way Chenle suddenly stops talking, his lips pressing into a firm line, it hurts him just as badly as well. 

—

Jisung doesn’t go to class the next day either. Chenle doesn’t question it, instead leaving the apartment for his 9 am class with the promise of coming back with a new phone for Jisung. Chenle is usually extremely stingy for someone who has enough money to be comfortable, but if Jisung is going to get a new phone out of this, he isn’t one to complain. 

He decides to be a decent person and email Sungchan to explain an abbreviated, slightly altered version of what had happened and why he completely ditched Sungchan on data collection day. He needs to be cautious with his excuse, making sure it’s believable enough that Sungchan won’t get suspicious.

It’s flu season, but he had gotten vaccinated earlier in the school year. Sungchan would remember that because Jisung dragged him and Chenle along, calling it a “bonding trip.” Chenle had blinked at him in disbelief, before deadpanning, “We’ve been friends for over a decade. Just say you’re scared of needles and go,” and Sungchan adding that “You once cried at the sight of a dissection needle.”

So the flu is out.

The cold isn’t serious enough to warrant skipping classes for more than a day or two, and Jisung has a feeling he’ll be staying at the apartment for at least a few more days. So that’s also out.

Jisung clicks his nails against his keyboard. What else could—

An idea pops into his brain, and Jisung grins.

Mono.

He hadn’t gotten it himself before (obviously, he’s never even had his first kiss), but he remembers when Donghyuck had gotten it, back in senior year of high school. It was hilarious, and Jisung laughed at him the entire time because not only was the guy Donghyuck had made out greasy as fuck, but he had gotten a whole _infection_ from it.

It isn’t serious enough to need antibiotics or anything, but it’s still contagious enough that Jisung can stay away from everyone for a few days without suspicion.

Jisung pats his arm in satisfaction. He’s a genius.

Clicking into his email account, he searches through his inbox until he finds Sungchan’s address, then types up an email:

_heyy this is jisung sorry for dipping on you i kinda have mono lol also my phone is completely shattered pls email the lab results to this account at some point tyy <3 _

Sungchan’s response is immediate, which is honestly kind of sad because he should be in the middle of microbiology, but Jisung can’t fault him because he also finds himself falling asleep during microbiology more times than he can count.

_damn dude only took u a year to break ur phone again. does that mean chenle has mono too?? that’s rough tho feel better soon xoxo_

Jisung frowns at the email. What does that even mean?

_what??? lol no wtf_

_mf then how did you get it_

Jisung’s smug pride suddenly turns into panic. He did _not_ think about that aspect. He couldn’t pull a name or explanation out of his ass because Sungchan would blab to Chenle and then he would have to deal with Chenle’s twenty questions that Jisung wouldn’t have a single answer to. So, naturally, deflection would have to be the answer.

_go pay attention_

_booooo u suck ur the one skipping_

Jisung snorts and doesn’t feel like gracing Sungchan with an apology for leaving him alone in class, so he clicks out of that tab and stares at his desktop screen. Damn, he really misses having a phone. He could usually play games or spam Chenle with stickers and memes when he’s bored, but Chenle doesn’t check his Facebook enough for him to use messenger, and he doesn’t even know Chenle’s email address. 

Logically speaking, he could work. Catch up on some reading, finish homework that he’s been ignoring in favor of settling into this strange life that he’s not even sure is his. It’s not like he’s going anywhere anytime soon, considering the whole fast-healing thing he has going on. So logically, yes, that would be the best decision. 

He decides to spam Sungchan with emails. 

A few hours later, when Sungchan stops responding, Jisung notices a pang in his stomach. It isn’t like how he usually feels when he’s hungry, with his stomach growling and such. This hunger is simmering, gnawing away at his stomach and crawling up his throat. No matter how much water he drinks, he feels parched. 

His vision goes hazy for a moment, but with a few quick, successive blinks, he’s able to chase away the blurriness. Stumbling over to the kitchen, he desperately searches through the cabinets and refrigerator.

The leftover rice he finds in the fridge doesn’t do much to quell his hunger; it tastes like cardboard going down his throat, and Jisung has to resist the urge to spit it out. 

So, with nothing left to do, he returns to his trusty friend, the internet.

Because that worked spectacularly earlier, right?

_Vampire hunger_ , he types in the search bar, this time with both hands because since the incident the day before, he’s had the common sense to avoid the sunlight so he wouldn’t burn himself again. 

He skips past the Wiki websites that pop up, scrolling through the first few pages for anything that might be helpful. But the Wiki TV Show articles give way to Wikipedia articles about vampire novels, and Jisung is reminded once again just how much the internet fucking _sucks._

He tosses his computer to the side, letting it land on the cushion next to him. Vampires drank blood, right? That’s what everyone always says, and if the puddle of blood Jisung was lying in is anything to go by, it’s probably true. It must be the only thing vampires can eat or drink, considering how bland the food he had stuffed down his throat was. But where was he supposed to get blood from?

Well. Jisung sighs. If he ignores the issue, hopefully it’ll go away. It shouldn’t end up badly, although putting some distance between him and Chenle until this blows over would help, if he’s able to. He pats his stomach, almost sympathetically. If it gets too much to bear, he’ll just run into the streets at one in the morning like some kind of damsel in distress and hope there’s blood lying around, while simultaneously trying not to get attacked. The idea is possible. Seoul is a pretty interesting city, anyways.

Jisung is one hour into his pity party on the couch, lying around and doing nothing but groaning at the pain eating away at his stomach when Chenle returns to the apartment, a few hours later than Jisung had expected.

Chenle dumps the bags of groceries on the floor of the kitchen. “Mono, really?” He asks, arching a brow at Jisung. 

Jisung shrugs. “Made sense at the time.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it did.” Chenle rolls his eyes and digs through a few bags, setting the contents on the counter. It’s strange because he and Chenle weren’t due to restock the cabinets and fridge for at least another week. And even stranger, Chenle never willingly goes to the grocery store.

“So,” Jisung begins. Chenle hums, indicating he’s listening. “What’s with all the bags? I thought you were just going to stop by and grab me a phone?”

“Grabbed you some other things you’ll need.” Chenle picks up a bag lying to the side of the pile and walks over to Jisung, then drops it by Jisung’s feet. “You’re welcome.”

Jisung blinks up at Chenle, and for a moment, he’s overwhelmed by a suddenly tangy scent that slices through air. He finds his eyes being drawn to the side of the Chenle’s neck, and finally realizes what the smell is. He digs his nails into his thighs, trying to distract himself, and he only ends up noticing just how ice-cold his skin is. His throat burns.

Chenle’s standing there, completely still, but his gaze is searching Jisung’s features. His tongue is poking against his cheek, a habit he has whenever he’s worried or thinking about something. Jisung chuckles nervously in an attempt to diffuse the tense atmosphere, and puts the bag on his lap to sift through what’s in it. He first fishes out the white box of a new iPhone and almost wails in relief. 

“It’s already set up.” Chenle tells him with a nod. “Downloaded a few contacts you might need onto it while I was at the store. You can add the rest later.”

He opens the box and looks at the iPhone sitting on the casing. He turns it on, and the screen brightens. “You’re an angel, Le,” Jisung says in awe, looking up at Chenle.

Chenle scoffs, but the corners of his lips are quirking up into a smile. “Yeah, I really am.” He juts his chin out at the bag. “Go get the other things.”

Jisung complies, reaching into the bag. He isn’t sure what he’s expecting, but it’s definitely not a transparent bag containing a red liquid. “Sorry, what the hell is this? Kool-aid?”

“The thing that’s going to keep you alive. Or as alive as you can get, anyways.”

Jisung gives him a strange look, not liking nor understanding the cryptic words spewing out of Chenle’s mouth. He turns over the bag in his hands, sees the small, printed inscription on the top right corner, and it hits him. This is a _blood bag._

“Holy shit.” Jisung isn’t sure what he should be more freaked out about: the fact that Chenle must know he’s a vampire, or the fact that Chenle had practically thrown a plastic bag of _blood_ at him. “Who’s—who’s blood is this?”

Chenle smiles. “Sungchan’s. Why?”

Jisung chokes, dropping the bag onto the couch. Is that why Sungchan had suddenly stopped replying? “Chenle, what the _fuck_!”

Chenle snorts and approaches Jisung, and only laughs harder when Jisung flinches away from him. He reaches across Jisung’s lap to pick up the bag. “Can you read?” He thrusts the bag back into Jisung’s face. “It literally says cattle blood. Last time I checked, Sungchan isn’t a cow.”

Indeed, written in neat Hangul, is the word _cattle._ “Oh.”

“Yeah, _oh._ ” Chenle pushes the bag closer into Jisung’s face. “Now drink. You can’t afford to starve yourself when your body is still adjusting. You need to take care of yourself.”

“How—” Jisung begins, but the words are stuck in his throat.

“How did I know? How do you drink from a blood bag? How did I get the bag? How do I look so effortlessly charming even after robbing a blood bank and running from the police?” Jisung’s eyes widen at that, but Chenle doesn’t pay him any mind. “All fabulous questions, my dear Jisung. Luckily, we have time to answer them later, so for now, go drink. Use the tube in the bag and attach it to the capped opening at the end of the bag.”

Jisung does as he’s told, digging the clear tube out of the bag on his lap and attaching it to the blood bag. He glances at Chenle, who encourages him to continue with a slight nod of his head. He takes the end of the tube into his mouth and takes an experimental sip.

A sharp, metallic taste floods his senses, and he wrinkles his nose. He’s never liked the taste of blood—who in their right mind would?—and despite how hungry he is, it doesn’t taste any better now. 

“Ji, you need to drink.”

Chenle’s looking at him so imploringly that Jisung thickly swallows, casting another glance at the barely-touched blood bag in his hands.

“I know blood doesn’t taste great, but you need to drink it.”

Jisung bites his lip, and immediately registers the taste of blood lingering on them. He scrunches his face up again and is about to give up altogether but another glance at Chenle makes him falter.

A second swallow to ready himself, and then Jisung raises the tube to his lips and takes a few gulps. The taste is just as strong as before, but with each gulp, he notices it less. The blood fills him with a sort of fiery heat that ignites every inch of his body, and Jisung finds himself basking in that feeling more than the taste itself. 

Once he finishes the second bag Chenle thrusts into his lap, he exhales, finally satiated, though the aftertaste is unpleasant. The aching hunger has teetered off into a low thrum, and the world around him begins to sharpen again. 

It’s only until then, when he regains control over his senses, that he notices how close Chenle is. 

The realization makes his stomach drop. Is this safe? Chenle couldn’t hurt him like this. But could he hurt Chenle like this? He’s not even sure what he _can_ do, but from what he’s seen, it involves fangs and biting and lots of blood and Jisung wants to involve Chenle in none of that. 

He wraps the bags with paper towels and throws them away (just to be on the safe side; it would be a disaster if someone saw the blood bags and started asking questions). When he sits on the couch, Chenle’s already comfortably sprawled there, watching Jisung with such unbridled interest that Jisung suddenly feels vulnerable under his gaze.

“So, Le,” Jisung says, smiling awkwardly while fiddling with his fingers. “I guess you know.”

“I guess I do.” Chenle’s eyes are twinkling with mirth.

“How did you find out? I was doing a pretty good job of hiding it.”

At that, Chenle bursts out laughing. “No you weren’t. The dark room? The quick healing? Your skin suddenly being freezing cold? The fact that you had no pulse? It was pretty obvious.”

“Wait.” Jisung instinctively leans forward into Chenle’s space, inspecting him, and Chenle startles at the close proximity. Jisung’s quick to draw back, but plants his hands on the sofa to steady himself, unwittingly placing them right next to Chenle’s hands, and he notices the clear temperature difference between their hands. Jisung hates it. “How did you figure out the pulse thing? When?”

“Last night. When we hold hands, I can usually feel your pulse,” Chenle says, taking Jisung’s hand into his and tapping lightly on Jisung’s wrist, “but I didn’t feel anything. I was already sort of suspicious, but that just confirmed it.”

Jisung glares down accusingly at his own hand. “But how did you piece it together so quickly? 

Chenle gives him an unimpressed look. “Sung, I literally study supernatural creatures on the side.”

“And hunt them,” Jisung adds quietly. 

He doesn’t think Chenle had heard him until Chenle's posture stiffens, his hand gripping Jisung’s just a bit tighter.

“Jisung,” he begins.

“Are you going to hunt me?” Jisung rushes out, the questions and panic all tumbling past his lips before he can stop it. “Are you going to kill me?”

“Ji, I can't—I would never.” Jisung can’t read the expression on Chenle’s face, too many emotions swirling around for Jisung to understand what the other boy is thinking. 

“But what about your whole club? Am I going to have people coming after me with stakes or something?” Jisung shakily inhales; this is the first time he’s putting all of his worries into words, and it hurts far more than he could’ve imagined. “Chenle,” Jisung says, and there are tears already brimming in his eyes, “Chenle, what if I hurt _you._ I can’t hurt you.”

“Ji—” Chenle tries to interrupt, but Jisung’s already on a roll. 

“If I can't control myself or I get hungry again and there’s no blood bags or anything, then I could accidentally hurt you. Oh my god, what if I turn you? Or kill you? Holy shit, I can’t let you get hurt.” Jisung drops his head into his hands and rubs his temples with clenched fists. “What if the person that turned me comes after me again for some reason? What if they come after _you_? What if—”

Chenle punches Jisung’s arm. _Hard_. “Jisung, shut up. I need you to listen to me.”

Jisung finally stops his babbling and stares at Chenle, rubbing at the sore spot on his arm. There’s definitely a bruise blooming there now. 

“You’re not going to hurt me. I trust you.”

Jisung opens his mouth to retort that _I could on accident_ , but Chenle silences him with a glare. 

“Don’t underestimate me. First of all, your fangs haven’t come in yet. And second, I can defend myself if need be, so if you go all crazy on me for some reason, I know how to make sure you don’t accidentally turn me or anyone else.” 

Jisung’s shoulders drop in resignation, because what Chenle’s saying makes sense. Yet, there's still a terrifying possibility that he could hurt—that he could _turn_ —someone, and his stomach lurches at the realization. 

“But is—but isn’t there still a chance I could hurt you?”

Chenle hums. “I guess. But if it happens, I know how to handle it. Plus, the rest of the club knows how to handle this type of thing.”

“Wait.” Jisung straightens. “You can’t tell them, Le.”

“They’re not going to hurt you.”

“I just…” Jisung trails off and chews on his lip. “I don’t want more people to find out,” he finally settles on. 

Chenle sighs. “I guess that’s fair. I don’t think they’ll come after you with stakes or whatever like you think.” He pauses. “Wait, maybe…”

Jisung’s eyes go wide, and Chenle’s quick to continue, “It’ll be fine, don’t worry!”

Jisung raises his brow at Chenle. “Really, now."

“Yeah!” Chenle chirps. “I’ll help you! It’ll all be fine.”

—

It’s not all fine. 

The next day, Chenle decides to wake Jisung up at the asscrack of dawn, smacking him with a book until Jisung finally peels his eyes open. 

“What the fuck?” He slurs, his voice raspy. 

Chenle stills for a second, an audible swallow, then lands a particularly hard hit on Jisung’s side. 

“Ow, Le, what the fuck! I’m awake!”

Chenle drops the book onto Jisung’s stomach then strides towards the windows. He cracks the blinds open, and Jisung immediately sits up.

“I can’t—”

“Can’t stand the sun, I know, I know,” Chenle impatiently finishes for him, “but you need to start getting used to it, which starts with easy prolonged exposure.”

Jisung eyes him warily. “Chenle, is this safe?”

“Probably!” Chenle looks at the warm orange light filtering through the blinds, then back at Jisung. He tilts his head. “Come on. I’m sure you miss the sun, at least a little bit.” 

He’s right. Jisung definitely misses the sun; out of the two of them, Jisung’s always been more willing to venture into the sunlight, while Chenle prefers to hole himself in his room or the library. 

Jisung shifts the covers off of himself, stopping when his hand makes contact with the book Chenle was hitting him with earlier. He looks up at Chenle for an explanation. 

“You have to read the holy scripture.”

Jisung turns the book over. He squints at the cover. “My Immortal?” 

“Holy scripture,” Chenle repeats.

Jisung snorts and tosses the book onto his pillow, then climbs out of bed towards where Chenle stands, smiling at Jisung. Jisung stops just short of where the sunbeams meet the carpet of his flooring, glancing hesitantly at Chenle. 

Chenle holds out his hand. “Trust me, okay? If it gets too much, we can close the blinds.”

And Jisung does trust him. He’d trust Chenle with his life. 

He takes Chenle’s hand and steps into the sunlight. 

It burns a bit at first. Jisung squeezes his eyes shut and keeps his feet planted on the ground, intent on staying in the light as long as he can. Within a few minutes, the burning fades into a tingling sensation, one that’s only magnified by the way Chenle’s hand curls around his. “You okay?” he whispers. 

Jisung swallows and nods. “I’m okay. It’s not too bad.”

He doesn’t need to look over at Chenle to know he’s grinning. “Told ya.” Chenle ducks his head and wiggles himself under Jisung’s arm, keeping his hand linked with Jisung’s the entire time. Jisung doesn’t complain. 

It’s the first sunrise Jisung’s seen in awhile. And the brightest one, by far. 

They close the blinds around seven, the intensity of the sunlight becoming too much to bear. Jisung’s disappointed; the warmth felt incredible, freeing in a way that Jisung doesn’t get to experience much anymore. 

“I’m proud of you, Sung,” Chenle mumbles as he drapes himself over Jisung’s back. The warmth returns, full-force, filling every bit of him, all the way to his fingertips. 

Jisung looks away from the blinds and towards Chenle. He’ll be okay. He’s got his own personal sun. 

He ends up giving Chenle a piggy-back ride to the kitchen, mostly because Chenle refuses to let go, and even though he should, he doesn’t really want to let Chenle go either. He dumps Chenle in front of the stove, because contrary to what Chenle believes, Jisung’s positive Chenle can’t make eggs while being perched on Jisung’s back.

He accidentally makes enough for two, and Jisung offers to eat it anyways, because of course he’s willing to eat food that tastes like fucking _cardboard_ for Chenle, but Chenle rolls his eyes and scrapes the excess food into a container. “For later,” he says with a nonplussed shrug, and that’s that. 

They’re sitting at the small table they stole from Donghyuck during freshman year, Jisung’s head pillowed on an arm as he looks at Chenle. He was originally lying on his hands, but it was too cold against his cheek to be comfortable.

“It’s strange that I have the cold hands, now,” Jisung admits with a light laugh. “Abnormal.”

Chenle’s hands always used to be the cold ones. Whenever Jisung would tug him out of the library or his room to finally _eat_ something for once, he would always wrap his own hands with the sleeves of his sweater as he interlaced his fingers with Chenle’s, fastening a sort-of makeshift glove for Chenle. Chenle loved to hold Jisung’s hand because of the natural warmth he seemed to emit, and when Jisung would tease, “it’s the only reason you hold my hand.” Chenle would cheekily smile back with a giggled, “yeah, obviously.” 

Now, Jisung can’t really tell if Chenle’s hands are cold, because having any body heat at all is more than what he can say for himself. 

“Well, now it’s like I’m taking care of you.” Chenle tugs down the sleeves of his hoodie so the ends just brush the tips of his fingers, then covers one of Jisung’s hands with both of his. “I’ll be your heater.”

“One hand at a time?” Jisung asks, eyeing his objectively-enormous hand that’s sandwiched between Chenle’s smaller, pudgier ones. “Sounds efficient.”

Chenle kicks him from under the table. “You suck.” Jisung grins in reply.

Chenle then breaks away to reach down into his backpack to pull out a worn book, the binding falling apart. “I was doing some reading,” he begins, flipping through the pages so quickly that Jisung’s slightly scared that the paper’s going to tear.

“Nerd.”

Chenle huffs. “You’re the one who had glasses,” he points out, not looking away from the book. When he finds the page he’s looking for, he lets out a small “aha!” and Jisung can’t help but giggle at the sound. “Vampires,” Chenle says as he slides the book over to Jisung.

“Vampires,” Jisung parrots, reading the header that’s written in a messy scrawl. “So what exactly is this?”

“It’s some kind of old encyclopedia of the supernatural. The guy says vampires can get used to the sun, which is where I got my idea from. He also has a whole bunch of different abilities vampires can have. You’ll gain them over time as you adjust.”

Jisung nods and scans through the pages. “Lifespan?” he reads out loud, baffled.

Chenle pulls the book back towards himself before Jisung can read any further. “Don’t worry about that right now. We can go through the book together tomorrow, since it’s the weekend. Really, it’s a fascinating book; he recounts some first-person encounters with the creatures in the margins, and if you can understand the bad handwriting, there’s some interesting stuff. The guy really knew what he was talking about!”

Chenle has entered his nerd mode. Jisung sighs. There’s nothing he can do to stop it.

“He has some strategies in there on how to deal with newly-turned vampires, which I think we should definitely look into. Oh, Jisung! Did you know the retractable nature of fangs only evolved within the past century? They used to walk around with their fangs just, like, hanging out!”

Jisung has to practically shove Chenle out the door for his classes, who _still_ doesn’t stop talking through the door until Jisung cracks the door open enough to kick his shins and send him on his way. 

He turns around and sags against the door with a sigh. For someone that supposedly hunts monsters, Chenle’s extremely excited about Jisung being a vampire. Way more than Jisung, that’s for sure.

It’s day three of him avoiding the real world, and he’s beginning to realize that maybe he should email his professors, at least to let them know that he’s not dead (well, the state of that was questionable, but too complicated to explain in an email). His biochem class should be starting in the next ten minutes, so he should really email all of his professors soon, to avoid dragging his procrastination out for any longer. His computer’s sitting on the table he and Chenle were just at, so he begins jogging towards it.

The next thing he knows, he’s running straight into a wall.

Jisung falls onto the ground with a low groan, rubbing the place where his head had collided with the wall.

There’s a considerable bump forming at the top of his forehead, and when Jisung’s finger prods at it, it stings. He’s once again reminded that while he can heal quicker than usual, he still feels pain from injuries. Based on what happened last time, it’ll take at least a few hours for the swelling to reduce.

He chews on his lip. How had that even happened?

The last thing he knew, he was going to get his laptop, but now here he is, lying on the floor. He slowly pushes himself up to a standing position, blinking away the spots that dance in his vision. He shakes a leg experimentally. It jerks for a moment, as if trying to carry him somewhere, then stills. He eyes the couch on the other end of the room. Maybe? Maybe he could try to land there and see if it's his legs that are the issue, or something else. He pictures himself near the couch, not really sure what he's expecting.

His thighs clench and then his feet are moving, the world around him blurring by too fast to be normal. Dimly, he makes out the white plaster of the wall that’s fast-approaching. He shoots a hand out to grab onto the closest thing, which happens to be a floor lamp that almost topples over due to the sudden added weight of his body. He blinks, recollecting himself, and is relieved to find that he’s standing and very much not injured.

Jisung throws himself onto the couch. He can travel places quicker, that much was glaringly clear. It must be something similar to what the man had done when he had brought Jisung back to his apartment. This would all be so much easier if Chenle had just left his encyclopedia-thing instead of bringing it with him.

He purses his lips and slowly raises himself off of the couch and walks over to his bedroom, each step cautious. It's normal; no strange super-speed or anything. So he supposes he can control this, but as to how? That's a whole different issue.

Luckily, Chenle finishes class early today, so they can finally sit down and figure out what the _hell_ is going on with Jisung.

Until then, Jisung plops himself on his bed and resolves not to move. He stares at his dresser blankly, then heaves a long sigh. He left his phone in the other room, and has no intention of leaving to get it. His laptop is there, too, so he probably won't even email his professors for another few hours. He eyes the book Chenle was hitting him with earlier, before opting that reading whatever nonsense written in it is more favorable than doing his homework.

He's halfway through the 25th chapter (truly a gripping tale, if you ask him—he's never been more engrossed in a story) when the door opens, slams shut, and there’s a high-pitched scream and a garbled “fucking _stats_.” Ah, Chenle’s back.

Jisung combs his hair down in a poor attempt to conceal the bump from earlier, then hobbles out of his bedroom towards the entryway.

“Hi.” Jisung leans against the doorframe as Chenle kicks off his shoes. 

When Chenle looks up at Jisung, he snorts. “How did you get that bump?”

Jisung sighs. So much for keeping it hidden. “I ran into a wall.”

Chenle stares at him incredulously. “How do you keep getting hurt?”

“I can, like, run really fast and shit. Ran to get my laptop, and ran into the wall instead.”

Chenle snickers. “You know, when I think about it, that sounds like something you’d do.”

“Thanks.” Jisung’s lips press into a thin smile as he glares at Chenle. 

“Anytime!” Chenle pats his shoulder, ignoring Jisung’s expression. “You do need to be more careful, though. It takes a lot of energy to heal yourself, which is why you got so hungry so quickly after turning. But”—Chenle grins, his eyes twinkling—“you have to tell me all about your speed stuff.”

Jisung prods at Chenle’s sneakers with his toes until Chenle slides the sneakers next to his discarded backpack. He ambles into the kitchen, making a beeline towards the fridge, and Jisung follows him like a lost puppy. 

“It wasn’t that exciting,” Jisung admits as Chenle opens the fridge to find something to eat. Without looking back at him, he hands Jisung a blood bag to drink before grabbing a plastic container from the top shelf. He closes the door with a quick swing of his hips and strolls over to the microwave. 

“It was definitely exciting,” Chenle says from over his shoulder. He sticks the container into the microwave, presses in a time, then finally turns around to face Jisung. “I mean, you’re starting to gain more vampire abilities and stuff!”

“I really don’t want them,” Jisung mumbles petulantly with a wrinkle of his nose. He glances down at the chilled blood bag in his hands. “Yeah, really don’t want them.” 

Chenle’s expression softens. “I know, Sung. But this is—this is kind of your future from now on. The faster you accept all of this and get used to it, the easier it’ll be in the long run.”

“I guess.” Jisung huffs, sending another glare towards the blood bag. “I don’t need to drink this everyday, right?”

“I mean you did hurt yourself _again_ so you need the energy. You’re also a baby vampire right now, so…” he trails off to reach over and pinch Jisung’s cheeks, who swats away the hands with a groan. 

“How many bags did you even get?”

“Enough, I think. Didn’t really account for how hungry you’d be yesterday, but there should be enough for a few weeks.” 

The microwave beeps, and Jisung leaves to find the bag they stored the plastic tube in. When he finds it, he stuffs it into his hoodie pocket and sits at the table, Chenle taking the seat across from him. 

Jisung’s twisting the tube into the bag as Chenle mixes his food with his chopsticks. Jisung raises the end of the tube to his mouth, then pauses. He looks over at Chenle. “No offense, but isn’t it weird that I’m drinking blood while you’re eating actual food?”

Chenle gives him a half-hearted shrug. “Not really. I don't mind,” he says, his mouth half-full. He returns back to his container, and Jisung eyes the blood bag again. 

“Okay, it’s weird for me,” Jisung declares. He turns around in his seat so his back is facing Chenle and connects the tube with the bag. He frowns at the dark red liquid. 

Maybe it doesn’t taste as bad now?

He takes a sip and almost gags. 

Yeah, it still tastes like shit. But the effect is immediate and gratifying, so Jisung squeezes his eyes shut and chokes down the rest of the bag. He tosses it out as Chenle finishes washing out his dish. 

Jisung walks over and rests his chin on Chenle’s shoulder. “Boo.”

Chenle snorts, shifting his gaze away from the drying container on the side and towards Jisung. “Real scary,” he says flatly. “You’re a vampire, not a ghost.”

Jisung’s eyes go wide and he draws back a few centimeters. “Those _exist_?”

“Why are you so shocked by that? You literally drink blood, Sung.”

“But what exactly _exists_ then?”

“Well, from what I know,” Chenle begins, turning towards Jisung, and Jisung already regrets asking. “Vampires, obviously, ghosts, werewolves, warlocks, and I’m pretty sure some fae are hiding, even though I haven’t seen them personally.” He counts each one on a finger, then pauses. “The encyclopedia has over a hundred creatures documented, and even then, it’s pretty old, so there’s likely more.” 

Chenle’s beaming and Jisung’s merely staring at him in a mix of shock and horror. “Holy shit.”

“Just don’t get mixed up with the wrong group of people. Or wrong group of vampires, since rival covens and stuff can exist.” Chenle hops on the balls of his feet and ruffles Jisung hair, just to annoy him, but is careful to avoid the bump on his forehead. 

Jisung’s about to duck his head to escape Chenle’s hands, but he knows the effort would be futile so he lets Chenle continue to mess up his hair. “How do I know who I should talk to?”

Chenle snorts. “Fuck if I know. Instinct?” He gives Jisung a half-smile, just a small quirk of the right corner of his lips. “You can talk to me, at least! I’m trustworthy!”

“Yeah, I can,” Jisung says, but the words are stilted. If Chenle notices, he doesn't say anything.

Trusting Chenle isn’t an issue to Jisung. Never has been, never will be.

He’s more worried if he can trust himself.

Whenever he looks in a mirror, it's like a stranger's eyes blink back at him. They're dull and cold, and his skin has a dusty pallor that would put all whitening creams to shame. It's a mystery to him how he can even see his reflection, and he almost wishes he couldn't. He never really believed he was much to look at in the first place; all lanky limbs and hair that refused to fall into place. At least then, his cheeks were rosy, his skin tanned from the summer sun. But now, he just looks _hollow_. A shell of himself. Like he doesn't belong here. In a way, he doesn't.

The worst part about being what he is—a _vampire_ , is that he can doom people to live the same fate as him. He can force people to roam the earth aimlessly, on an endless search for blood, until they either found a constant supply or withered away and died. Jisung isn't really sure which one would happen, or which one he himself would even prefer.

If Jisung doomed Chenle to such a fate, he would never forgive himself. The guilt would weigh on him as long as he lived. There’s only so much Chenle can defend himself against. If he bit Chenle, would that turn him? Jisung shivers at the thought, goosebumps raising along his skin as he shrinks in on himself. He couldn’t hurt Chenle. He couldn’t risk it—

"Sung?" Chenle snaps his fingers in front of Jisung's face, and Jisung jumps. "You good?

Jisung stumbles back and Chenle’s hand reaches out to grab Jisung’s arm, in an attempt to steady him, but Jisung freezes at the contact. 

“You look pale.”

“I always look pale,” Jisung quips dryly.

“Yeah okay.” Chenle rolls his eyes. “Did you not drink enough?”

Chenle tugs Jisung towards himself, and Jisung goes willingly, pliant.

It’s always like this; each time he wants to flinch away, Chenle manages to draw him back in, casting away his worries even if just for an hour or two. His eyes sparkle with warmth and pure, unadulterated fondness that becomes too much to bear at times. Chenle never says it, never says any of it, but he never needs to. It’s written onto his expressions, _engraved_ , as if it’s always been there, plain for the world to see—for Jisung to see. As if Chenle’s always known that Jisung would see anyway.

It’s this push-and-pull that Jisung can never understand, a cruel dance of sorts. Creeping worry, biding its time in the back of his mind, coupled with a desire to stay close to Chenle, just like he’s always done. Yet, no matter what Chenle says, about how he can handle himself, Jisung knows he’s a source of danger. 

“I’m alright.” The corner of his lips pull into a strained smile as he swallows down the sudden bout of nausea he feels. He should talk about everything he’s experiencing, ask Chenle to help him find explanations for the sudden strange developments, but he feels like he’s trapped underwater, a sack of rocks tied to every limb. For every bit of reassurance Chenle offers, three new concerns or possible, awful realities seem to take its place. 

Chenle’s eyes dart over his features, as if he’s searching for something that Jisung doesn’t even know is there. He lets out a breath, shoulders dropping, then reaches out a hand and gently combs down Jisung’s hair, fixing it as if he wasn’t the one to mess it up in the first place. It’s silent and familiar, and Jisung melts into the touch, unable to stop himself. Chenle’s hand lingers longer than necessary, but Jisung doesn’t notice until Chenle slowly pulls away, then shoves his hand into his pocket. 

“Wanna just sit on my bed and watch Netflix?”

Jisung’s smile becomes more authentic as he nods. Chenle grabs his backpack, and Jisung lets Chenle lead him to his room, shutting the door behind them. Jisung sits on one side of the bed and Chenle on the other, a clear space between them. It feels empty, so Jisung stuffs a pillow between them. 

Chenle leans over and cracks the blinds open, letting the setting sun peek through. Jisung doesn’t say a word. 

—

It’s suffocating.

Jisung would normally mean that metaphorically, but right now, he genuinely feels like he’s suffocating. The air is stuffy, stifling, and everything is too _warm_. When he’s able to open his eyes, it’s completely dark, and not in the way his room usually is recently, because even then he’s able to make out the vague shapes of furniture. Now, it’s like someone had draped a black-out curtain over him, and it’s hard to breathe.

He squirms around, trying to find a source of light. After some wriggling, he breaks free of his confines, which appears to be his blanket. Strange, because this has never happened before—if anything, his blanket is never able to fully cover his entire body, thanks to his growth spurt at the beginning of freshman year of college.

Jisung tries to climb out of bed, but only ends up falling flat on his face. Sitting up, he blinks down at his body. Or, where his body should be, because he’s fairly sure a human body shouldn’t have fur. Or _wings._

He screams.

He moves his right arm, and watches in a fascinated sort of horror as his right wing flaps with the movement. “Holy shit.”

“Jisung?” Chenle calls, seemingly having heard Jisung’s obnoxiously high-pitched shriek of terror. “Are you okay? Was that you?”

Jisung stares at the wings protruding on either side of his body. He doesn’t reply, not really sure how to.

Chenle groans. “Are you even here? Did you seriously leave again without giving me a heads up?” He stomps into Jisung’s room and flicks on the light.

He freezes as soon as he makes eye contact with Jisung’s tiny figure on the floor. They stare at each other in silence, Chenle mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“I’m a fucking _bat!_ ” Jisung finally screams as if it’s not already obvious, but it only comes out as unintelligible screeches. 

Chenle blinks. “You’re a fucking bat,” he whispers in a daze. “Holy shit, that’s kinda cool.”

It takes half a mind for Jisung to not fly over and pull out Chenle’s hair. “You’re a _bitch_ ,” he instead utters with the most sourness he can muster, hoping it conveys his frustration. 

“Y’know, I have the strangest feeling that you’re cursing me out. Like, I can’t shake it.” Chenle furrows his brow, then shrugs. “Well, I can’t understand you, so.” He pats Jisung’s head with a single finger. Jisung lets out another screech. 

Chenle gathers Jisung into his arms, then plops him back onto his bed and sits next to him. 

“What exactly do bats eat?” Chenle wonders out loud, stroking the top of Jisung’s head as he pulls out his phone and scrolls through Google. “Look at you, so tiny,” he coos, and Jisung bites his thumb in retaliation. Chenle snorts in amusement, glancing at the bit of red welling at the surface of the skin, before shrugging and returning to his phone.

Jisung blinks at the blood, before he suddenly feels like he’s been dunked in a pool of ice-cold water. If biting Chenle as a human (human-like vampire, whatever, the technicalities doesn’t matter) would either hurt or turn him, then would the effects be the same now that he’s a bat?

How could he have been so foolish? Jisung gulps and stares at Chenle, half-expecting him to just drop dead. Nothing happens yet, Chenle continuing to scroll through his phone, seemingly unbothered by the crisis Jisung’s going through.

“No, you can’t hurt me by biting me in your bat form,” Chenle eventually says as if reading his mind, “you’re thinking too loudly.”

Jisung exhales in relief. One less thing to worry about.

“Anyways, how do you feel about staying like this for a while?”

Jisung gapes at him for a solid few seconds before squawking out a “No!” 

Chenle sighs, clearly catching the overall sentiment of what Jisung’s saying. “Disappointing. You look cute like this.” He smiles at Jisung, and Jisung’s torn between biting him again and preening at the compliment.

“How long have you been like this?”

“Since I woke up,” Jisung says, but upon remembering that Chenle can’t understand him, he tugs at his blanket, hoping Chenle understands.

“Last night? During the night?”

Jisung shrugs. Close enough.

“This hasn’t happened before, right?”

Jisung shakes his head.

Chenle bites his lip. “So you don’t know how to turn back, right?”

Jisung shakes his head again.

“I’ll grab my book, one second. Don’t _move_ , because I’d rather not risk sitting on you.” He points two fingers at Jisung before clambering off the bed and jogging out of the room. Jisung winces at the thought. That would certainly not be the best way to go, squished under Chenle’s back or leg or something. Fairly anti-climatic, if you ask him.

Chenle reappears a moment later, and after checking where Jisung’s lying on the bed, throws himself onto the mattress. He flips through the book, eyes scanning the page until he finds what he’s looking for.

“Bats!” He jabs a finger at the passage, then angles the book towards Jisung. “Vampires can turn into bats at will, but I’m guessing it’s just unstable for you right now because you’re still developing traits. You’re relatively harmless in this state, which is nice, I guess.” Chenle looks up from the page and towards Jisung. “How good are you at switching between a, like, vampire mindset and human mindset? You know, making sure you don’t go all super-speed everywhere?”

Jisung blinks. He’s decent at best, but it requires him to be painfully deliberate. 

He moves his wings from side-to-side, trying to indicate that he’s okay at switching between vampire and human traits. He then tries to mime walking slow and fast to help explain what he means. Chenle stares at him, wholly baffled.

“Dude, I feel like I’m playing some weird game of charades. And usually I’m good at charades, but this is hard.”

Jisung rolls his eyes. That’s a lie if he’s ever heard one; Chenle just shouts the first word that pops into his tiny brain at the time, and hopes it works out. No strategy whatsoever.

He ends up settling for a small nod, and Chenle replies with, “Good, because you’re gonna need to be able to do that. It’s a mental game, sorta. Just imagine yourself as a human.” 

Jisung stares at Chenle. 

“Go!” Chenle shoos him off the bed. “Try your best.”

He jumps onto the floor and closes his eyes. He waits like that for what feels like a few minutes, then opens them again, only to see everything around him looks the same, frustratingly large compared to his tiny size. 

“Chenle, it’s not working,” he whines. 

“Don’t know what you’re saying, but keep trying.”

Jisung huffs out a breath and clenches his eyes shut again, trying desperately to picture himself human again. Arms, legs, his big head that Chenle loves to tease him about as if he doesn’t have a big head himself. He doesn’t feel a difference though, and panic bubbles in his stomach. 

“Chenle I need to _pee—_ ”

“Okay, then go?” 

Jisung’s eyes snap open to see Chenle staring at him with barely-repressed laughter. Jisung scowls, and then Chenle finally doesn’t hold it back anymore, laughing so hard he doubles over and snorts. 

“You-you looked so _stupid_ ,” he cackles, “just standing there for like a whole minute and just,” he screws up his face in what Jisung deems a poor imitation of himself. 

Jisung snatches a pillow from his bed and smacks Chenle with it several times until Chenle’s a giggling mess on the sheets, Jisung hovering over him. 

“I liked you better as a bat,” Chenle says, and Jisung hits him again. 

When the pillow finally turns into a sad sack of leaking feathers out of some unknown hole, Jisung dumps the rest of the feathers onto Chenle’s head before slipping into the bathroom. 

He’s brushing his teeth when Chenle barges into the bathroom, book in one hand and phone in the other. There’s a stray feather sticking out of his hair, but Jisung decides not to tell him and see how long it is before Chenle notices.

“Good news, the general consensus is that current vampires don’t have the capability to kill, as in you can’t kill someone by drinking their blood.”

Jisung spits out the bitter toothpaste and rinses his mouth before sparing Chenle a wary glance, waiting for Chenle to continue. When he doesn’t, Jisung says, “What's the bad news? I know you have some.”

Chenle exhales. “I mean, I wouldn’t say it’s particularly _bad_ news, but drinking your victims dry leads to turning like we were thinking. And drinking without closing the wound, which is what happened to you, based on what you told me. Hey, how are your fangs coming in?”

Jisung runs his tongue over his canines. “I don’t feel anything different?”

“They probably won’t come out unless you’re hungry or something. Vampires adapted that way. Maybe check next time you’re drinking blood and stuff.”

Jisung shudders at the thought of the dreaded blood bags. “Great,” he says with a complete lack of enthusiasm, “can’t wait. Will do.”

“It’s going to get easier,” Chenle says, bumping his shoulder with Jisung’s, so nonchalant it’s almost painful, “no worries.”

Jisung, for one, has _plenty_ of worries, but he manages a stiff nod anyways.

Chenle hits the back of his phone against the cover of the book, and Jisung jumps at the sudden sound. “Okay! Our first order of business is getting you”—he points his phone at Jisung—“completely used to sunlight so you can go out and start going to classes and stuff. Hopefully we can get your tolerance to a stable level in the next week.”

Jisung swallows. It’s a much shorter timeframe than he had expected. “That seems like a lot of work.”

Really, he wouldn’t mind being able to go back into the sun, beyond the few minutes he’s been able to stand in front of his windows. He’d love it, even. He’s just ever-so-slightly scared of the consequences of his actions, just as anyone would be after slacking off on assignments for nearly a week. Academia is not very forgiving in that aspect. Or in any aspect, really.

“Why can’t I just stay inside and, like, _rot_ until I die?”

Chenle stills for a moment before sighing. “No. You need to go outside and stuff and it’ll be good to keep working up your sunlight tolerance, as in more than what we’ve been doing. And we need to do it really soon, because there’s only so long you can hole yourself up in here before people start getting worried.” 

Jisung’s fighting a losing battle, and he knows it. He sighs. “Fine. Tell me how we’re going to do it.”

“It’s not bad, I promise,” Chenle says, and it sounds so suspiciously placating that Jisung doubts him already. 

“Are you just gonna shove me into the sun and hope I don’t burn up and die?”

“I… admit I considered that.” Chenle’s smiling guilelessly and Jisung raises a brow at him. “ _But_ , I think I figured out something that would work. It’s going off of what we’ve been trying, since you haven’t, like, turned to ash or anything. Every few hours, you’re going to spend at least ten minutes in the sunlight. We’ll add around ten minutes per day, and maybe adjust that as we go on for optimal results.”

“Great, you have your procedures planned out,” Jisung deadpans. “Did you design a whole experimental design diagram, too?”

“I did! Now let’s go lie in the sun.” Chenle tugs at Jisung’s arm for a second before dropping it and striding out of the bathroom.

Jisung feels vaguely like one of Chenle’s lab experiments. Maybe _E. coli_ or something. Jisung sighs, equal parts exasperated and endeared. He decides to exit out of the bathroom and find Chenle before venturing further down that vein of thought. It only takes a few seconds for Jisung to spot him.

Chenle’s sprawled on the floor with the blinds almost fully opened, eyes shut and a content smile on his lips. “Come join me,” he tells Jisung as if sensing his presence. “It’s really nice and warm. Not horribly bright. I think you’ll be good.”

Jisung can’t help but doubt him, because the sunlight is _way_ more direct than the times he and Chenle woke up early to get Jisung used to the sunrise. But Jisung’s also weak, so he complies, curling up like a cat on the floor next to Chenle. Chenle’s right; it _is_ warm and pleasant once he gets used to the sparks that are dancing along his skin, though he’s not entirely sure if that’s from the sun itself.

“Does it feel okay?” Chenle asks, a hint of worry in his tone. 

Jisung hums in affirmation. 

“Told you so,” Chenle says smugly. Jisung swallows back a retort and lets him have this victory. He knows Chenle’s relieved underneath that demeanor, and he is, too. 

Jisung closes his eyes, smiling despite himself. Sunbathing on a carpet covered with questionable stains is definitely not on his bucket-list, but he’s not complaining.

—

“Jisung, come _on_.”

Jisung clutches the doorframe tighter, rendering Chenle’s attempts at pushing him out the door futile. He’s always been the stronger one of the two, regardless of any superhuman strength he may or may not have—he’s not sure of that yet. 

“You can’t force me back into classes! I’m not going back!” Jisung says petulantly. He had emailed his professors a couple days prior, and received responses ranging from mildly passive-aggressive to straight-up aggressive. He’s especially not looking forward to facing his Orgo professor, who threatened to fail him. Jisung shudders at the memory of the strongly-worded email.

“You can’t, like, _loiter_ on campus like a lost freshman,” Chenle huffs. “You have a degree to work towards! Plus, you’re not allowed to ditch me! We’re suffering here _together_!”

“This is where we part ways.” Jisung sniffs for dramatic effect. 

Chenle delivers a swift kick to Jisung’s butt, and that ends up being enough for Jisung to topple over, nearly smashing his face against the ground. “I can just rot here! Let me rot!” Jisung shrieks as he tries to stabilize himself. “I’ll be like your plant or something. I occasionally need sunlight and like, blood instead of water, but that’s it! Super low-maintenance!”

“I already texted Sungchan that you’re coming to microbio. Here’s something to show your teachers that’s proof of you being sick”—Chenle shoves a folded piece of paper into Jisung’s chest—“and here’s your phone because I stole it earlier to text Sungchan on your behalf.” He slips the iPhone into Jisung’s pocket before patting it for good measure. “Microbio starts in like, fifteen minutes. So go! Don’t burn up, have fun.”

“If I die, it’s your fault,” Jisung threatens, dragging his feet against the cheap carpet of their apartment complex.

“Sung,” Chenle purses his lips as if he has something to say, but then shakes his head, deciding against it. “You’ll be fine.”

Jisung narrows his eyes at him. “You saw that an awful lot. I’m starting to think you don’t mean it.”

Chenle shrugs, stepping out of the apartment and shutting the door behind him. He shifts one of his backpack straps so it's sitting more comfortably on his shoulder before replying, “Well, I do. Every time I say it, I do mean it.” He pinches Jisung’s cheeks. “Deal with it. And trust me on all of this. It's all going to be okay.”

There’s something so inexplicably warm about his words, about Chenle’s very being, that immediately turns Jisung to putty. He isn’t even able to argue—even if he wanted to, Chenle’s already strolling off, whistling a tune Jisung doesn’t recognize. He's so relaxed, his shoulders slumped and his hands in his hoodie pockets, and Jisung craves that same composure.

He looks down at his wrists, the pale skin staring back at him. Whether or not Jisung likes it, this is how things are going to be for the rest of his life. It's always painful to remember that fact, dread washing over him with each re-realization. Normalcy still seems so far away to him—it feels like he only finds solace in forgetting his circumstances.

Jisung sighs and plays with the sleeves of his black hoodie, which is cozy but doesn’t provide any additional warmth. With nothing else to do, he runs after Chenle and they walk to campus together.

"How's the sun treating you?" Chenle asks, bumping Jisung's upper arm with his shoulder. "Not too bad?"

Jisung pauses in his tracks and closes his eyes, breathing in the fresh air and basking in the sunbeams flitting over his features. He opens them and nods. "It's good. Really nice."

"Good." Chenle then strikes up an easy conversation about some friends, Jeno and Renjun (Jisung suspects they're part of Chenle's hunting club, but it's not like Chenle would confirm anything). He's never met them, but at this point, he's heard Chenle talk about them so much that he feels as if he has.

Once, in the past, he had even felt a pang of jealousy whenever Chenle would mention Renjun or Jeno. Chenle’s eyes always light up when he talks about them, and Jisung used to mumble out half-hearted responses to his stories. But Chenle had caught on pretty quickly, and the next day told Jisung about the way Jeno and Renjun met their respective partners. It had been sufficient to quell Jisung’s concerns, and since then, he always indulges in Chenle’s stories.

Recently Chenle’s become more comfortable talking about the details of his club, and it’s become the central topic of his stories. Chenle occasionally recounts a somewhat concerning story, such as the one he’s telling Jisung right now about his latest escapade into the dark streets of Seoul, but Jisung knows better than to question anything. He’s learned the hard way that it’s not worth asking about his methods, if the two-hour long strongly-worded rant Chenle had forced Jisung to suffer through was anything to go by.

“So did you kill the werewolf?” Jisung asks once Chenle finishes an extremely long run-on sentence in one breath.

“Nope! Just gave him some beef jerky. He was a baby.”

Jisung grins. “You’re a nice monster hunter.”

“I’m the best,” Chenle says with a thumbs-up. “Anyways, Calc starts in like ten minutes so I’m off.”

“You don’t have anything later today, right?” Jisung asks, and Chenle shakes his head. “I’ll see you tonight, then.”

Before they part, Chenle says, “It takes energy to heal, so be careful and don’t hurt yourself! ”

And that is something Jisung absolutely does not do.

In the span of the short two-minute walk to the science buildings, Jisung manages to trip over his own feet and face-plant onto the ground, collide with a lamppost (which would’ve led to a bloody nose under normal circumstances; Jisung is well-acquainted with how it usually ends up), and crash into what seems like a tree but is actually Sungchan.

"Look who showed up," Sungchan says with a grin. He offers Jisung a side-hug that Jisung reciprocates, albeit a bit awkwardly. “Missed you. Also, we have a quiz in microbio."

Jisung groans and rakes a hand over his face. "I shouldn't have come back."

Sungchan shrugs. "Everyone that’s taken it so far has failed it, so who knows? Maybe we'll get a good curve. Plus, we can at least enjoy the weather before we go to meet our inevitable doom." Sungchan glances up at the sky, pointing at a few drifting clouds.

Jisung follows his gaze upward, towards the sun hidden behind a few clouds, and smiles. "Yeah, fair enough."

His professor luckily excuses him from the quiz, and Jisung scrolls through his phone as Sungchan works through the quiz with anxious scribbles against the paper and tears pooling in his eyes. Jisung pats him on the back sympathetically after Sungchan hands it in, well-knowing he's going to be in the same position in a week, when he's taking the quiz.

The rest of the day passes by relatively smoothly. Jisung feels guilty for suddenly disappearing, though, and ends up staying after all of his lectures to show his professor’s the doctor’s note Chenle forged. Luckily, they’re all pretty sympathetic, which somehow makes Jisung feel worse. He has a painful amount of reading to catch up on during the next few days, which is honestly his own fault, but he mutters out an obligatory " _fuck_ college" under his breath anyways as he leaves his last class for the day.

As he walks to the dance building on the edge of campus for his dance troupe's meeting, he's shocked by how _normal_ this all feels. Sans the lack of food during lunch and the way Jisung would flinch when the sunlight's too intense, it feels like any usual full-day of classes would.

He pushes the door open and walks into the studio. There are a few people warming up already, and Jisung immediately recognizes Shotaro in the front of the room, his tiny build distinguishing him from the other dancers. As Jisung jogs up to him, his backpack swinging on his shoulder, Shotaro glances up from his phone and notices Jisung. He brightens and waves at Jisung.

"Ji! How are you feeling?"

"I'm—I’m doing a lot better," Jisung says carefully. "How are things going here? Anything new happen?"

“While you were gone, we got a new instructor," Shotaro tells him with a beam. "He's super cool. Like, literally perfect."

"What's his name?"

"He told us to call him 'Ten' because his actual name is too long. Oh, look!" Shotaro gently nudges his shoulder and tilts his head towards the ajar door, a man strolling into the studio. Jisung blinks at the figure, who looks more and more familiar the closer he gets to where he and Shotaro are standing. And then, finally, it hits him.

"Oh my god."

"Right! Isn't he so pretty?" Shotaro gushes. "He has this really amazing contemporary piece that he showed us and—"

Jisung tunes Shotaro out as he stares at Ten through his reflection, mouth agape. Ten meets his gaze in the mirror and winks, a sharp canine peeking through his smirk.

Ten then turns away, settling on the ground and stretching out his legs. Jisung's paralyzed, his mind running at a mile a minute.

He's not good at confrontation. He literally couldn't even confront Chenle in the early stages of their friendship (granted, it was about who stole the last onigiri from his fridge, but it was confrontation nonetheless and Jisung was wholly terrified). So instead of stomping up to the man and demanding an explanation, Jisung opts for tripping over his feet and squeaking incomprehensibly whenever Ten asks the class if they're still keeping up with his instruction or if they have any questions about certain moves.

When the class finally ends—he ignores the concerned looks Shotaro sends him because he's usually _not_ this much of a mess—Jisung's about to hightail it out of the studio and back to his apartment when he feels a tap on his shoulder. He whirs around, not sure who it would be because he’s never been the most social type; people typically don’t actively seek him out.

It’s Ten, and Jisung chokes on air.

“Hey, kid.” 

"You're the person from the alleyway!" Jisung says, and Ten looks amused by his realization.

"I am," Ten confirms.

Jisung narrows his eyes. “Are you following me?”

“Nah. But you might want this back.” He holds up a card between two fingers, and by the trademark “NCT Dance Studios” written in neon green, Jisung recognizes it as one of his own access cards that he would use whenever he wanted to stay after-hours to practice. He hadn't even noticed it was missing.

“You stole from me?”

"Call it what you will." Ten eyes the card for a moment before holding it out for Jisung to take. He tentatively reaches out to brush his fingers against the plastic, then snatches it from between Ten's fingers and slips it into his pocket. 

“So why exactly did you rob me?”

"I needed a way to reach you besides where you live and whatever. Didn't wanna show up asking for you and freak out whoever else you live with."

Jisung frowns and shoves a hand into his pocket to grip his card. “So you are following me!”

Ten shrugs. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

"But why? Did you feel bad?" Jisung guesses. Ten makes a face.

"I don't _feel_ guilt. Or I would have centuries worth of guilt on my shoulders, and yeah, no, I'm not about that life." He reaches up to pat Jisung's head, which is almost comical because of the way Ten has to balance on the balls of his feet to even reach that high. "I just decided you might need help."

"I don't need help," Jisung says petulantly, ignoring the fact that he honestly is in dire need of help. Recently, there's only so much Chenle can try to explain before Jisung interjects with something that confuses them both, and then they're left staring blankly at each other as they try to figure out what the hell they were saying in the first place. "I have Chenle. He's a vampire hunter," Jisung says smugly, then pauses. That isn't exactly something worth boasting. He sighs. Oh well.

"Oh, tiny boy? Blond hair, can speak really fucking fast Chinese?"

Jisung's eyes go wide. "You know him?"

Ten shakes his head. "Heard of him. Some people in my coven have had run-ins with him."

"Your coven. Right," Jisung says faintly. Even the single word manages to shatter the semblance of normalcy he's been building up for the past day, and Jisung slightly curls in on himself, loosely hugging his arms to his chest.

"Do you want to meet them or something? I think it would be nice if you met other vampires."

Jisung swallows. "Not particularly."

"Suit yourself." Ten tilts his head, studying Jisung for a moment. “Do you—” he pauses, and peers at Jisung a bit closer. “Do you have a steady source of blood at least? We have extra in our coven house in case you don’t.”

Jisung grimaces at the word again. “No, I’m fine. Chenle got me some blood bags. Pretty sure he stole them or something, I didn’t really wanna ask him for the details.” 

“Isn’t he a vampire hunter?”

“He promised he wouldn’t hunt me,” Jisung admits, now fidgeting with his fingers in his pocket, hidden away from Ten’s gaze. “But overall, I don’t think he’s that interested in the hunting aspect.” 

Ten considers that for a second, then snorts. “He did corner Doyoung a few months ago, but let him go after interrogating him for, like, an hour. I guess he’s just a shit vampire hunter.”

Jisung grins, the information somehow relaxing his anxious movements. Of course Chenle would interrogate _vampires_ like the nerd he is. “That sounds like him.”

“So this friend. Chenle. He risked getting arrested to make sure you wouldn’t be hungry?” Ten asks with a raised eyebrow. “You have a good friend. Sounds like he really cares about you."

“He’s amazing, yeah,” Jisung says, his smile spreading impossibly wider. “Don’t know what I would do about him."

"So you guys are really close, huh?"

"Chenle?” Jisung asks dumbly, taken aback by the sudden question. “I mean, yeah. We've been friends for twelve years, I think?"

Ten’s expression is indecipherable. "I guess you’re really gonna miss him, then. Not to be a downer or anything, but yeah, I get it, it’s gonna be tough. Make sure to enjoy the time you guys have left."

"Miss him?" Jisung furrows his brows. "What do you mean? He's probably back in our apartment, I'm gonna see him in, like, less than an hour."

"Do you not kno—" Ten cuts himself off with a pained sigh. "Nevermind. This is something you both should talk about together. I'm out. See you for tomorrow’s lesson." He offers Jisung a two-fingered salute before strolling out of the studio. The door swings shut behind him and Jisung blinks at his own reflection in the glass window. A chill crawls its way up his spine, and Jisung wishes his hoodie provided more than just being something to hide in.

—

The next day, Jisung returns to the dance studio considerably more oriented than before. He learns the new choreography with ease, is able to keep up comfortable conversation with Shotaro during breaks, and doesn't freak out when Ten has him stay after class to talk. So three wins for him.

This time, Ten’s backpack isn’t slung over his shoulder and he’s sitting cross-legged on the ground. He pats the spot next to him. “Sit.”

Jisung obliges, keeping a foot of distance between them both out of courtesy and slight fear.

“So, Jisung,” Ten says and Jisung startles at the fact that Ten even knows his name, “I’m gonna teach you how to be a vampire.”

Jisung blinks at him. Once, twice. “So you _do_ feel bad.”

“No!” Ten huffs. “I’m just preparing you so you can be more independent in the future. It would help if you joined a coven or something, honestly, but”—Ten’s expression softens—“I get it. I honestly do. This all”—he waves a hand noncommittally—“is really fucking tough and scary, and you’re lucky you have someone like Chenle with you, because some people— some people aren’t as lucky. But I think getting help on how to be a vampire from an actual vampire would be helpful.”

“Thank you,” Jisung says softly, and he means it. “I would really appreciate that.”

Ten smiles. “Yeah, of course. Do you have enough blood on hand, wherever you store it? You’re probably gonna get hurt. A lot. Especially if you don’t know what you’re doing, and I’m assuming you don’t.”

Jisung winces at the thought of the blood bags. He had to force two bags down the night before, and the metallic taste still hasn’t fully left his mouth, no matter how many times he’s brushed his teeth. “I do, yeah. I have enough for a few weeks I think.”

"Okay, good. I need you to lay out all of the traits you have right now, and we can start from there."

"Oh, uh, Jisung taps a finger against his thigh as he tries to count off everything in his head. "Well, there's super speed I think, I can turn into a bat, I used to not be able to go into the sun, and I drink blood? I think that's it. I haven't gotten my fangs yet."

Ten raises his eyebrows. "How do you know?"

Jisung looks at him strangely. "What do you mean 'how do you know?' My canines are, like, regular-pointy not vampire-pointy." He bares his teeth for Ten as proof. "Plus, when I was drinking yesterday, I didn't have fangs or anything. It felt normal."

Ten makes a noise of understanding, nodding to himself. "That's a common misconception. Unless you're an older vampire like me, fangs don't really appear until they're needed. As in, you need to bite someone. Your body can tell the difference between blood delivered through an extraneous source, like a bag, and a living source, like a human. Usually, if you starve yourself, they'll come out automatically along with your eyes going red, sort of as your body's warning that it needs nutrients."

"Oh," Jisung says, "that's not what this old book says. It's this encyclopedia Chenle has, it has information about supernatural creatures and it said something about fangs always coming out whenever a vampire drinks blood, regardless of its source."

"Well, I mean, that book is probably outdated. Vampires have evolved since the 1700s."

Jisung stares at him, vaguely wondering that if he looks closely enough, he'll be able to peel back the air of mystery surrounding Ten and figure out his past. "I didn't say anything about the date it was written.”

Ten rolls his eyes and waves a hand dismissively. "Whatever. It was an example, it's not like I actually know when this book was written. You get my point."

"So I have fangs," Jisung says. He brings a finger up to poke at his canines, half-expecting them to cut through the top layer of flesh of his index finger. It doesn't, and he wipes his finger on his hoodie with a grimace.

"Yeah, probably. You won't know unless you get hungry or your body senses you're about to feed off of a human or something, but…" Ten trails off with a shrug.

Jisung sighs. For some reason, knowing that bit of information is more terrifying than comforting. "So what do I do about, like, everything else I mentioned?"

"You just need to train yourself to get used to switching between human traits and vampire traits. It really just takes practice, and it's not hard to get a handle on it." 

“Okay, so how do I practice?”

Instead of answering, Ten looks at Jisung expectantly for a moment before standing and striding out of the studio. When Jisung doesn’t move, he pokes his head back into the studio with a bright “come on!” and Jisung pushes himself off of the ground to shuffle after Ten.

They’re climbing stairwell after stairwell, and no matter how many times Jisung asks where they’re going, Ten doesn’t dignify him with a response. When they reach the final step, Ten pulls a key out of his pocket—Jisung’s pretty sure it’s the master key to the building, and he has _no_ idea how the hell Ten has it, not that he wants to know—and unlocks the rooftop door. He swings it open, stepping out onto the concrete, and Jisung does the same. He’s never been up here before, and it’s a lot bigger than he expected. After shutting the door, Ten approaches the edge of the roof, beckoning for Jisung to follow.

"Okay!” Ten claps his hands together. “So what we're gonna do is I'm gonna push you off here and you're either gonna turn into a bat or break all of your bones and we'll have to wait for you to heal."

Jisung blinks. He looks down at the seven-foot drop onto the black asphalt, then back up at Ten’s beaming face, and blinks again just to check if he’s awake. “What the fuck?” he finally asks. “Shouldn't there be a limit to how much I can heal? Wouldn't I die?"

Ten exhales, shifting his weight from one foot to another. “Kid, you really need to talk to your friend. Tiny vampire hunter.”

Jisung gives him a strange look. “Okay?” He pauses, inspecting Ten for another second. “I’m pretty sure he’s taller than you, by the way.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Ten tilts his head towards the edge. “Do you wanna try it out?”

Jisung casts another glance at the drop before gulping. "Can we start with the easier lessons?"

“Glad you have some sense of self-preservation. That’s a good sign,” Ten remarks with a grin. “Take my hand." He holds it out, palm up. "We're gonna work on switching between bat and human forms."

Hesitantly, Jisung takes it, and absently notices how cold it is. “What now?”

“Now,” Ten says with a smile, “you’re going to trust me and follow my lead.”

—

Jisung stumbles into his apartment, bruises littering his face and arms from all of the times he rammed into brick walls while trying to learn how to fly. He eventually got it, sort of, but the soreness and purpling bruises were definitely not worth it.

"It looks like you were mauled by a wolf," Chenle notes from where he's lounging on the couch. He pushes himself up to walk over to where Jisung's standing in the doorway, pulling off his shoes with much difficulty.

Once he finally shakes off the pair of sneakers, he looks up at Chenle with a wince. "Flying accidents. Plural."

"Sung," Chenle sighs, before taking Jisung's hand and guiding him to a bathroom. He opens the cabinet behind the mirror and pulls out a bottle of ointment, a bag of cotton balls, a washcloth, and tweezers. Jisung watches as Chenle runs the washcloth underneath the faucet. Once it's damp enough, he turns to Jisung. "Don't move," he instructs quietly before pressing the cloth to a particularly nasty bruise on Jisung's cheek. Jisung hisses in pain but tries to stay still.

"How the fuck did you manage to get these many bruises?"

Jisung laughs, careful not to jerk his body with the movement so he can make Chenle's life easier. "Le, walls really _hurt,_ okay. Don't worry too much about it, they're gonna heal by tonight. Tomorrow at the latest. We were pretty careful; I didn’t jump off any roofs or anything."

Chenle huffs before moving the cloth to another bruise, ignoring Jisung's words. "I know you can heal really fast and everything, but you still can't be reckless. You're gonna need a lot of blood tonight. Probably at least two bags again."

"I think I'm going to look like this for the next month or so." When Chenle doesn't reply, he explains, "I met someone that's going to help me with being a vampire and stuff. Which is cool, so yeah. We were working on switching between forms and flying and stuff."

Chenle's still doesn't say anything, and they fall silent, save for the shuffling of Chenle's feet along the tile floor as he presses the cloth against the myriad of bruises on Jisung's skin, _tsk_ -ing to himself.

When Chenle finally finishes with the cloth, he tosses it into the sink and pulls out a cotton ball with a tweezer. After applying a bit of ointment onto the tip of the cotton ball, he begins to dab it onto the bruise on Jisung's cheek. It's cool against his skin, and Jisung's shoulders slump in repose. Chenle's hand comes up to cup his face, gingerly tilting it to the side to have better access to the bruise. 

"Jisung, you need to be careful," he murmurs, and Jisung finally realizes just how close to Chenle he is as Chenle's breath against the corner of his lips sends tingles down his spine. He swallows, casting his gaze elsewhere to avoid meeting Chenle's eyes.

“Sorry, Le.”

“Yeah, you better be sorry,” Chenle huffs, but it’s airy and as gentle as Chenle’s touch against his skin. “Make sure to drink enough later today, okay? It’s important that you don’t starve yourself or anything.”

Jisung makes a face, and Chenle squawks, losing his position on the bruise marring the corner of Jisung’s jaw. He immediately schools his expression back into place with a mumbled, “Sorry, sorry.”

Jisung lets the silence linger between them for a second, but he’s jittery, a question on the tip of his tongue. Jisung knows Chenle can sense it—he’s always been perceptive, even when they were younger and the only worries Jisung had were physics tests and English essays. But now Jisung has to worry about vampires and possibly hurting his best friend and yeah, he would take a literary analysis essay over this mess any day. 

"What’s up?" Chenle prompts him, glancing away from the bruise and upwards to meet Jisung’s gaze. Chenle’s fingers have warmed up against his skin, and it provides a wordless encouragement for Jisung to say what’s been lingering on his mind for a while now.

“Someone mentioned something about, like, missing you? I don't really know. Something about how I would really miss you and to enjoy the time we have left together."

Chenle's eyes are clouded over with an emotion that Jisung can't place as he freezes, still holding the cotton ball to Jisung's cheek. "Who was this?"

"The, uh, the person that's going to help me adjust. Since he's been a vampire for a while, I think."

"Was he the one that bit you?" Chenle suddenly asks, voice sharp.

"No, no," Jisung's quick to explain, "his name is Ten, and he found me when I woke up. Helped me not die on the way back here."

"Oh." Chenle visibly relaxes, and he draws back to throw away the cotton ball. "Well, what exactly did he say?"

“It was all pretty ominous, to be honest. He said I would really miss you, stuff about that. I told him it didn’t make sense because you were back at our apartment, and I’d see you soon…” Jisung trails off as Chenle frowns, lower lip wobbly before he bites down on it. “Am I missing something?”

Chenle visibly swallows before turning away and planting his hands on the sink counter, steadying himself. “I’m—” his voice breaks, and Chenle ducks his head, as if unable to meet his own gaze in the mirror. “I’m gonna go finish something really quick. Make sure to add the gel to your bruises on your arm.”

Without looking back at Jisung, Chenle leaves the bathroom. His footsteps fade away before disappearing completely, probably a result of Chenle holing himself up in his room like he does when he’s upset.

Jisung stares at the doorway to the bathroom, chewing on his bottom lip. It had felt like a harmless question, and Ten’s been insistent on asking Chenle directly about _something_. He’s missing something, but no one seems to want to tell him, and there’s not much of a way for Jisung to find out for himself.

He huffs under his breath before tugging another cotton ball out of the bag, repeating the same process as Chenle did earlier to apply a fresh coat of gel on the untreated bruises. It doesn’t feel as gentle or nearly as warm—it’s freezing cold and hurts when he prods at the bruise too roughly. By the time he starts poking at the bruises on his shoulders, he ends up giving up, wrist aching and a bitter taste in his throat distracting him from focusing on not hurting himself further.

Jisung throws the flattened cotton ball away and washes his hands. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and grimaces. He does look like utter shit, splotches of purple and blue covering his pale skin. Sort of like that time in middle school, when Chenle got into his mom's makeup and decided to test out all of the eyeshadows on Jisung.

He manages an awkward smile at his reflection before hobbling out of the bathroom and towards Chenle's room, throwing off his sweatshirt onto the ground halfway through the one-minute journey.

Jisung gently raps his knuckles against the wood. “Chenle?” There’s no response. He tries again. "Le? You there?" It's still quiet; Chenle could be asleep for all he knows.

Jisung smacks his head against the door, which he only realizes is an awful idea when he feels a bruise on his forehead flare up in protest of the action.

There’s a muffled snort, giving Chenle away. “Did you just hit your head?”

“Maybe.”

Jisung gently lays his head against the wooden door, careful to avoid the bruise this time. "Can you come out and talk to me? Or let me in or something? I swear I just want an explanation for everything." Jisung reaches down for the doorknob, well-knowing that even if it's not locked, he wouldn't try to twist it open either. It takes time for Chenle to cool-off, and Jisung's willing to wait. "Okay, Le, I'm—"

The door suddenly opens and Jisung shrieks, Chenle’s grip on his arm the only thing keeping him from crashing onto the floor. “Idiot.”

Jisung glances up at him. “Hi.”

“You’re so—” Chenle cuts himself off with an exaggerated sigh, obviously stifling a smile. “Stop hurting yourself, stupid. Keep the bruises”—he points to a bruise on Jisung’s temple—“to a minimum, got it?”

“Only if you tell me what’s going on. What are you not telling me? Ten’s not telling me anything either—he keeps being super ominous and going all _ooh go ask your vampire hunter friend_ so here I am.”

Chenle raises a brow at that. "Vampire hunter friend?"

"I mean, yeah, that's what you are." He hits Chenle's shoulder. "Don't ignore the rest of my sentence! What are you not telling me?"

Chenle sighs, throwing his head back in resignation. "Come sit down." After giving Jisung's arm a light squeeze, he breaks away to sit on his bed. He fiddles with a pillow, and Jisung closes the door behind him before walking over to join Chenle. He hits his foot against Chenle's bedpost in the process, since the lights aren't on and Jisung's vision has never been the greatest.

The blinds are tightly shut—Jisung's never understood Chenle's obsession with the darkness. He supposes it's fitting in a way, considering what Chenle does under the cover of night, but Jisung's never liked darkness, so he reaches over and opens them fully. It's not bright outside, clouds blanketing the sky, but it's at least a bit better.

He plops next to Chenle. "So are you gonna tell me now?"

Chenle clutches his pillow tighter, a frown on his lips. "Yeah," he mumbles.

Jisung waits for Chenle to continue. Except Chenle doesn't, instead pulling on a loose thread on his pillow. The string gets longer and longer, and Jisung has to bat away his hand in fear Chenle's going to unravel the whole damn pillow before he talks to Jisung.

"Chenle!" Jisung grabs Chenle's shoulders and begins to shake them, Chenle flopping with the motion. "Please! I'm literally going to go crazy at this rate!"

"God, fine, fine." Chenle sprawls onto his bed, limbs taking up every bit of space left. His hand ends up on Jisung's lap, and Jisung absentmindedly begins to trace patterns on his palm as he waits. "Try not to panic. But you're probably going to panic."

"Reassuring."

"Yeah, well—" Chenle buries his head in his pillow to avoid saying anything further. Jisung continues drawing small circles on Chenle's skin with the tip of his finger, waiting for Chenle to continue. After a minute, Chenle removes the pillow from his face and looks up at Jisung, as if savoring the image for a final time.

"You're immortal," Chenle blurts out, and Jisung's movements on his palm halt.

"I'm _what_?"

"You can live forever. Never die. The whole shebang." Chenle exhales sharply, his hand curling into a fist. Jisung loosely covers it with his, but quickly draws back when Chenle shivers; it's subtle, but just enough for Jisung to notice. Right. He isn't the one with warm hands anymore.

"I mean, well—" Jisung laughs, a mix of disbelief and panic. "Fuck, man." He covers his face with his hands and groans. "Shit, Le, what the hell am I supposed to do? Am I gonna be alive when the earth implodes?"

Chenle stares at him for a moment before bursting into incredulous laughter. "Sung, Jesus Christ, _that's_ what you're worried about?"

"It's a fair question!" Jisung defends with a frown. "But also, god, Chenle, I'm doomed to live here forever and watch as everyone dies around me. My brother, my _parents_."

"That's, uh, kinda morbid, but—"

"I'm gonna outlive you." The realization is sudden and terrifying all the same, and it feels like his still heart's climbed into his throat, suffocating him. "Chenle, I'm gonna be alive centuries after you're gone. I don't want that." There are tears welling at his eyes and everything's happening too fast, each new thought like a truck ramming into him. Except it wouldn't really matter if there was an actual truck hitting him, because Jisung can't die, so he would probably just lie there on the pavement until his bones healed. And that train of thought only makes everything worse. " _Fuck_! I don't want that. Chenle, I don't want this, please tell me this isn't true."

"Jisung…"

Jisung squeezes his eyes shut, Chenle's pained expression becoming too much to bear. "Chenle, I don't want this, I don't want to live forever."

"Sung," Chenle murmurs. The bed shifts and suddenly there are fingers gingerly wiping away the tears that are trailing down his cheeks. It's a bit embarrassing, really; Jisung hasn't cried in front of Chenle since junior year, but he'd like to think he gets a pass on this one. He's overwhelmed, thoughts running too fast for the rest of him to catch up.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, Sung. I didn't know how to break it to you. I was—" Chenle cuts himself off with an audible swallow. "I was trying to figure out how to deal with it myself. I'm sorry."

"'s okay," Jisung mumbles, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his palm. "I'll figure it out."

"Jisung—"

"I mean, it shouldn't be that bad, right? I just need to get used to the whole 'never dying' thing. Find a way to tell my family that ' _hey_ , I'm immortal!' and then deal with the fact that I'm going to be constantly alone for the rest of my life." The words all leave a sour taste in his mouth, and Jisung runs an agitated hand through his hair.

"Jisung, look at me."

Jisung lowers his hands and slowly opens his eyes. "Hi," Chenle says with a tiny smile, just to make Jisung smile as well. He cups Jisung's face, careful to avoid the bruises, and his eyes never leave Jisung's. "We're going to figure this out together. I promise."

"Promise?" Jisung echoes.

Chenle holds up a pinky. "Promise." Jisung intertwines it with his own, and somehow that manages to make Jisung feel a bit better.

"You're not leaving me in the dark about anything else?"

Chenle pauses, then shakes his head. "Nothing that you should know already." He squishes Jisung's face in an attempt to alleviate the tension hanging heavy over them. "We'll be okay."

Jisung winces. "Chenle, my bruises."

"Oh, yeah." Chenle quickly removes his hands, instead opting to give Jisung two thumbs-ups. "You good? No more existential crises?"

Jisung shrugs, a watery laugh escaping him. "Not at the moment."

"Gotta say, you handled this better than me." He pats Jisung's knee, almost congratulatory.

"And how exactly did you handle this?" Jisung blinks at him, unsure if even wants to know the answer. Not much is worse than having a mini-meltdown in front of your best friend.

"Kinda went into the streets and threatened some warlocks for information and stuff. Beat a few up." Chenle smiles guiltily at Jisung. "Good stress relief," he adds.

"Holy fuck.” Jisung stares at him. "Le, you're the strangest person I've ever met."

Chenle raises his eyebrows. "Coming from _you_."

"Yeah," Jisung agrees faintly, "coming from me."

—

“Nothing can be possibly worth you getting hurt so often,” Chenle says with a sigh as soon as Jisung steps into their apartment. He doesn’t even offer Jisung a glance, but he can probably hear the uneven shuffle of Jisung’s feet, limping from earlier that day when he hit his leg against the top of a lampost. “I got more bruise gel, it’s in the bag by the door.” 

Jisung smiles at him gratefully before bending over to rummage through the plastic bag Chenle had mentioned. “I know how to fly now,” Jisung announces as he wraps his hand around the familiar bottle. “I was able to fly to the science buildings and back with like, only a few issues.” 

Jisung darts into the bathroom to grab the bag of cotton balls, which is nearly finished thanks Ten and his slightly dubious training methods.

He still doesn’t really need to apply the gel onto his bruises, but it seems to make Chenle feel a bit better, more relaxed, so Jisung’s gotten into the habit of treating them as soon as he arrives back from practice. He throws himself onto the opposite end of the couch, dabbing on some gel as Chenle scans through a page from the chemistry textbook on his lap.

“Did animal control catch you?” Chenle asks nonchalantly, flipping through a few pages.

Jisung groans. “Someone called them on me, but nah.” He rubs gel against a bruise on his shoulder before capping the bottle and setting it onto the ground.

“Oh, that might’ve been Jeno. He vaguely mentioned something about a bat.” Chenle pops a gummy worm into his mouth from the bag next to him. “Not really sure,” he says as he chews, “I wasn’t listening.”

“So, _why_ exactly did he call animal control?” Jisung asks, still a bit cross from having to fly for his life as a man in a khaki shirt chased him across campus.

Chenle finally looks up from his book and arches a brow. “You do realize bats don’t normally fly around in broad daylight, right?”

“But he didn’t have to call animal control!”

Chenle rolls his eyes and returns back to the passage he was reading through. When he gets to the end of it, he closes the book and sets it down on the ground in front of him, then turns to Jisung. “So.”

“So.”

“How are you feeling?”

Jisung sighs. “Sore. Stressed. The usual.” He wrings his hands and stretches out his back, a joint in his shoulder popping in the process. “Do you wanna see me turn into a bat? I’ve gotten, like, really good at it.”

Chenle’s perks up at that, but his grin quickly morphs into a frown and he shakes his head. “Show me tomorrow. When you’ve healed. You don’t have dance tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, I’m done for the weekend,” Jisung confirms, stealing a gummy worm just to annoy Chenle. They taste like nothing, but it makes Chenle scowl at him and that’s the most satisfying reaction Jisung could have hoped for.

“Good, because you’re completely killing the blood stash,” Chenle says as he snatches his bag to set it on the armrest, far out of Jisung’s reach. “I have no idea how I’m gonna get any more bags at this rate.” He reaches down and grabs a different book from the floor, the supernatural encyclopedia they’ve both become well-accustomed with. He cracks it open, and once he finds his desired page, begins to read through it.

"Wait, Le,” Jisung says after a moment, “when was that book written?"

Chenle flips to the inside of the cover to check. "1745, why?"

Jisung hums. "Just curious."

Chenle looks at him strangely before returning to his page. “You know, werewolves are pretty cool. Like, I respect the furry little guys.”

“Have you just met some really nice werewolves, or—”

“They’re easy to get information out of.” Chenle beams at Jisung. “And old vamps, those guys are cool.”

Jisung nods with pursed lips. He pats Chenle’s arm. “Okay, Chenle. Good to know.” He pushes himself off of the couch and wanders into the kitchen, aimlessly opening and closing cabinets and staring at food that he can’t really eat.

“Sung!” Chenle shouts from the couch. “Make sure to grab a couple of blood bags from the fridge! You haven’t been eating enough; you’re starting to look kind of frail again. I can figure out how to get more later. Oh, and get me the bag of shrimp chips!”

Jisung rolls his eyes but does so anyway, grabbing two blood bags in one hand and the family sized bag of shrimp chips that Chenle’s been scarfing through at a worrying speed in the other. He tosses the bag at Chenle before settling down and taking the tube out of his pocket to drink.

“I don’t think one bag a day is going to cut it right now, even when you’re not training,” Chenle says as he removes the rubber band from the top of the bag and sticks his hand into it. He nibbles on a chip, watching as Jisung dejectedly sips from the tube.

“I mean, it has to. I need to ration myself,” Jisung mumbles, forcing down a gulp. 

“You still haven’t gotten used to blood?”

Jisung fully removes the tube from between his lips and shakes his head. “Nope. It tastes, like, less bad? But still bad.”

“Hopefully after a few more months you won’t need as much blood. Honestly, I don’t know how much we have left.” Chenle sighs, chewing on his lip. “I hope it'll last for at least a few more weeks."

"Sorry," Jisung says before he even knows what he's apologizing for. He squeezes the closed blood bag in his lap as if it's a stress-ball.

"For being hungry?" Chenle snorts. "You're fine, Sung, honestly. We'll figure it out."

And he's right. They always do.

They sit like that for the rest of the night, Jisung working on assignments and Chenle poring over the encyclopedia as if he hasn't read it front-to-back at least three times already—Jisung's counted. It's embarrassing how many times Jisung looks over at Chenle, almost expecting him to suddenly disappear. It's all so stupid, but seeing Chenle snuggle up with his book as he mouths the words he's reading through fills Jisung with sorely-needed comfort.

“Hey, Le," Jisung finds himself saying, right when they're about to retire for the night. Chenle looks up from where he's scribbling something into one of the margins on the page, waiting for Jisung to continue.

“Is there any way for me to die? Like, could hunters like you kill me?”

Chenle's brows raise at that, and he taps the end of the pencil against his chin. “I don’t think any of the old methods would work, honestly, but also I haven’t tried to kill a vampire. I’m also not sure how effective wooden stakes are anymore."

“So I’m really stuck here." There's a sinking feeling in his stomach, and Jisung curls his legs up to his chest, wondering if he makes himself small enough, he'll be able to disappear from sight.

“You won’t be here alone, though,” Chenle says with a shake of his head.

Jisung frowns. “What does that even mean?”

Chenle smiles gently as he stands up, placing the encyclopedia on the couch and brushing himself off. “Good night, Sung.”

—

Jisung should’ve known something was wrong when he was _excited_ to return back and drink. He’s been trying to slow down on his blood intake to control himself, but the sudden decrease in blood was starting to take a toll on his body. He’s been unsteady on his feet all day, much to Sungchan’s concern. When he stumbles into his apartment, he can only mumble out a greeting to Chenle before bolting towards the refrigerator.

“Jisung?” 

Jisung vaguely registers footsteps as he scans through the shelves. The bags aren’t in their usual spot, and Jisung chews on his lip in an attempt to stifle the building panic.

“Chenle,” Jisung says, swallowing thickly, “where’s the blood?” He shifts around a few containers, praying the familiar bags have just been pushed to the back of the fridge. “Are we out?”

“The one I gave you a few days ago was the last one. I’ve been trying to find a way to get more, but the bank’s security has been tightened an insane amount.” Chenle groans, combing an agitated hand through his hair. “God, you’re probably starving. Fuck, Sung, I’m so sorry.”

Jisung blinks away the way his vision swims for just a moment before shaking his head, trying to dismiss Chenle’s concerns. “I’ll be fine, I can probably ask Ten if he has any extra blood. He probably does.” His voice is even, controlled, but the simmering hunger has returned to the pit of his stomach, an unfamiliar feeling because of how well-fed he’s been in the past month or so. The tips of his canines are aching, but Jisung’s too afraid to run his tongue over the teeth to confirm why.

“How bad—” The words die on Chenle’s tongue as soon as he makes eye contact with Jisung. “You need blood now.”

Chenle tugs his sweatshirt over his head as he kicks the refrigerator door shut. He balls up the hoodie in his hands before grabbing Jisung’s wrist and dragging him towards the couch. He throws his hoodie onto one of the cushions, then pushes Jisung onto the other.

“Le, what the fuck?”

Chenle holds out his wrist. “Drink.”

“Chenle—” Jisung’s eyes widen at Chenle’s wrist before looking up at Chenle himself. His jaw is set, resolute. He pushes his wrist towards Jisung. 

“You need to drink. This is at least safe.”

Jisung stills as a sweet scent begins to seep into the air. His mouth is watering already, and his eyesight clouds, canines throbbing painfully. Slowly, he realizes the scent is coming from Chenle’s wrist, blood pooling in Chenle’s veins that Jisung can sink his fangs into and _drink_ , satiating the painful hunger gnawing away at him.

His gaze snaps back up to Chenle’s face, and when they make eye contact, it’s like he’s been doused by a bucket of ice-cold water.

“It’s not safe!” Jisung shoves away Chenle’s arm. “I could hurt you.”

Chenle huffs. “Do you think I’m going to stand by and watch you hurt yourself because of how hungry you are? Sung, you need blood. This is the safest option we have right now.”

“I-I can find someone else, I can find some other way—” Jisung’s voice breaks as he vehemently shakes his head. “Chenle, I’m not doing this.”

Jisung pushes himself off of the couch, and walks two steps before he notices the world going sideways, a blurry mix of colors. His legs give out under him, and the only thing keeping him from the hardwood floor is Chenle’s arm hooked around him.

“ _Jisung Park_ ,” Chenle says sternly, and Jisung gulps, “you are going to drink my _goddamn_ blood so you don’t starve yourself half-to-death.” He twists Jisung’s ear, not letting go even when Jisung yelps. 

“Chenle,” Jisung pleads, wincing when Chenle finally lets go, “Chenle, please don’t make me do this. I’ll be fine, I promise. 

“Jisung,” Chenle whispers lowly into Jisung's abused ear.

“Yes?”

“I will literally end you if you don’t drink my blood.”

Jisung snorts at that. “Can you?” 

Chenle glares at him. “I’ll find a way. Now”—he hoists Jisung up to his feet with surprising strength— “we’re going back to the couch or your bed or something and you’re going to drink and then we’re going to take a nap. Got it?”

Jisung opens his mouth to disagree, another protest already on the tip of his tongue, but Chenle looks close to strangling him so he doesn’t push it. “Fine,” he mumbles dejectedly. “But not much!”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” He drags Jisung into his room, plopping him down on the edge of the bed. Chenle then sits to the side and nods at Jisung, in an attempt to reassure him.

"Okay, so you're going to drink from my wrist by biting a blue vein here." Chenle traces a finger down one of the thicker veins, ensuring Jisung gets a good look at it. "Try to be as accurate as you can with your, uh, fang placement. Don't hesitate or it'll make it more painful and a bit harder to close the wounds."

"Do you need band-aids or something? For when I'm done?"

Chenle bursts out laughing. "Band-aids?"

"I mean, what else would you use?" Jisung asks, suddenly defensive.

"Your saliva is kind of weird, so you can close the wounds if you lick it or something. I'm not completely sure, just going by the book."

"That's... weird, but okay." He reaches down to cradle Chenle's wrist in his palm, then pauses. "Will this hurt?"

"It should be fine." Chenle looks up from his hand to meet Jisung's gaze. He combs Jisung's hair back with a fond smile. "Go for it."

Jisung brings Chenle's wrist to his lips, aligns his teeth with the vein, and sinks his fangs in.

The first thing Jisung notices is how _good_ it feels. It still has the metallic tang of blood, but Chenle's blood tastes different, almost cloying. It ignites his skin with something hot, something dangerous, and it's addicting. Perhaps this is why vampires always feed off of humans—there's something so different about drinking blood directly from a person than from a bag.

Jisung can't distinguish if the difference is because he's feeding off of a human, or if he's feeding off of Chenle.

It's a strange situation; it's like he's taking Chenle's life source, yet Chenle's heartbeat is quickening under the pads of his fingers that are wrapped around his forearm.

Jisung allows himself a peek up at Chenle, and sees a small smile tugging at the corners of Chenle's lips. He's slumping, eyes shut, and Jisung takes that as a sign to continue. He takes a few more gulps with increased vigor, a strange polyrhythm between the pattering of Chenle's heart and the noisy slurps of his lips against Chenle's wrist. It's become a bit messy, red tinting Chenle's pale skin, but Jisung's careful not to move excessively, in fear of piercing any other veins or arteries. 

He can’t seem to get enough, though, the taste overwhelming his senses. Sweet in a way that ignites every part of him aflame, and he just wants more and _more_ and—

"Sung," Chenle mumbles, weakly pushing away at Jisung's head. "'oo much. You're drinking too much."

The words are fuzzy in Jisung’s brain for a moment before he registers what they mean. He yanks himself away, blinking up at Chenle before back down at Chenle’s wrist. Blood flows from the wounds, and the sheer amount is dizzying to look at.

“Oh my god.”

"Close the wounds," Chenle reminds him, appearing less bothered than Jisung feels. Jisung startles and immediately bends down to lave his tongue over the two puncture marks until the bleeding stops. He pulls away and watches in queasy fascination as the wounds close completely, until all that's left are two silvery lines and the smeared remnants of blood.

"Shit," Jisung whispers, willing himself to glance at Chenle. His face is drained of color, an ashy pallor that's uncomfortably abnormal. "How much did I take?"

"A lot," Chenle admits with a light laugh. "It's alright."

"Oh my god." Jisung extends a hand to cup Chenle's face, then immediately draws back. A sob threatens to escape him, and he clenches his eyes shut, the metallic taste lingering in his mouth turning bitter.

“Sung, calm down.”

"I'm sorry, oh my god." Jisung faintly notices the wetness on his cheeks and tries to wipe away the tears with his sleeve, but it only makes matters worse. He buries his face in his hands instead.

“I’m still here, aren’t I? Not bleeding out on your sheets or anything.”

Jisung cries harder. 

Chenle sighs, tugging at Jisung’s wrist in an attempt to wrench his hand away from his face. “Hey, I’m fine. Still alive, unfortunately human, the usual stuff.” 

Jisung drops his hands into his lap, keeping his head ducked. “I’m so sorry,” he blubbers out with a hiccup. “I almost _killed_ you, I’m so sorry. Chenle, this was a mistake, I’m—”

“Jisung, hey.” Chenle reaches out and takes Jisung’s hand in his. He strokes his thumb across the back of Jisung’s hand until his sobs begin to subside. “I’m still here, right?” 

Jisung sniffles and wipes away a stray tear with the back of his hand before nodding. “Yeah,” he croaks. Chenle’s still warm, his touch not ice-cold like a part of Jisung had feared.

Chenle smiles gently. “See? So it’s okay.” 

Jisung’s about to pull his hand away when Chenle shakes his head, almost imperceptibly. He instead scoots closer on the bed, until their knees collide. “Sung, what are you so scared of?”

Jisung swallows, and it’s like the world has come to a stand-still, waiting with bated breath. An ache is already creeping up his stomach and into his chest, but it’s different than the way hunger feels. This is heavy, as if his conscience is dreading what’s to follow.

He knows exactly what he’s scared of. He’s known since the day he woke up in the alleyway covered in blood. But Chenle’s waiting for him to admit it aloud, admit it to _himself_. 

So he does.

“Myself.” Jisung takes in a shuddering breath. “I’m—I’m scared of myself.”

Chenle cocks his head to the side. “Why? I’m not scared of you.”

“I mean, you’re a monster hunter and—”

“I’ve never been scared of you,” Chenle interrupts. “Not even when I met you. Or when you accidentally blew up at me after failing that chemistry test and slammed your door in my face. Or when you shot up like a million centimeters and made me look like a midget. Do you know why?”

Jisung shrugs half-heartedly.

“Because when I see you, I see someone that became my friend just to tell me that my green hair chalk looked like cabbage. That learned guitar just so we could play together in the talent show. That let me cry and mess up his uniform when Taehyun broke up with me in eleventh year.”

“Chenle—”

“Shut up and let me finish,” Chenle says with a scowl. Jisung snaps his mouth closed.

“What I’m trying to say, Sung, is that you literally just radiate kindness and warmth.” Chenle squeezes his hand, not breaking eye contact for a second. “You could never be scary, vampire or human. There’s nothing to be scared of.”

“I guess.” Jisung sighs, crossing his arms. He finally tugs his hand away, lying down and staring blankly at the ceiling as he fidgets with his fingers.

“Hey, give it time. We have plenty of it.”

Jisung turns to look at Chenle. “We?”

Chenle merely shrugs. “We.”

“Oh.” Jisung can’t quite understand what Chenle means by that, but he doesn’t have the energy to pry, if the pounding headache behind his eyes is anything to go by. 

“Oh,” Chenle parrots, just to be annoying, and he’s clearly delighted when Jisung groans in exasperation. He then lies down as well and curls up to Jisung’s side. 

After a moment, Jisung reaches out a trembling hand to wrap around Chenle’s shoulders, almost experimentally. Chenle’s quick to snuggle into the touch as he lets out a content hum. 

“I’m sorry,” Jisung says again, his voice still wavering a bit from earlier. 

“For the last time, you’re fine Sung, seriously. It ended up okay. Do you feel better?"

Jisung frowns. “Why are you worrying about me after I drank a whole pint of your blood?"

Chenle rolls his eyes. "There's no way you drank that much. This was all for you, right? If you don't feel better than it would be a waste."

"You're—god, Chenle." Jisung huffs, and Chenle cheekily smiles up at him, poking the end of his nose with a single finger.

“I am god, yes.”

“Fuck off.”

“Mm, no thanks. I’m comfy here.” Chenle wiggles a bit as if to prove his point. He then falls quiet, and Jisung lets the silence blanket them, though it’s not stifling. It’s familiar, like finding a worn glove lying in the depths of a closet and finally slipping it on. 

Jisung cards a hand through Chenle’s bangs, careful not to tug on any knots. Chenle hasn’t combed his hair in a few days and it's sticking up at odd angles, but Jisung knows he’s in a similar state of disarray so he can’t really complain. He thinks that Chenle has already fallen asleep when he suddenly feels Chenle shift in his arms. 

“You know, I knew this was going to happen sooner or later,” Chenle mumbles, his words slurring together and his eyes half-lidded. “Glad it happened now, though.”

Jisung straightens. “What? What do you mean?”

Chenle smiles lazily. “When you were looking at me that night, when I first gave you the blood bag, your eyes turned red.”

He knows the implications of that. Ten had told him. “And you still trusted me to do all of this?”

“Jisung,” he says, prying his eyes open to look up at Jisung, “I thought I made that clear earlier? Sung, I’d trust you with anything.”

Jisung frowns, swallows, trying to chase away the guilt crawling its way up his throat. “But _why?_ I could’ve hurt you. I almost did.”

“But you didn’t.” Chenle reaches a hand up to brush a stray hair out of Jisung’s eyes. His touch is gentle, as if Jisung’s made of porcelain or glass, and would shatter under the slightest pressure. “I knew you wouldn’t.”

“Chenle,” Jisung mumbles, lightly covering Chenle’s hand with his own, “you didn’t.” 

Chenle interlaces their fingers and lets their joined hands fall to the side. Jisung doesn’t try to pull away.

“I know you better than anyone. Better than I know myself. Let me trust you.” 

Anything Jisung wants to say is stuck in his throat like cotton, and he can’t force it all out. So he nods, and it’s enough for Chenle.

“Thank you, Sung.” He pushes himself up a bit, until their shoulders are bumping together. Jisung can feel the ghost of Chenle’s breath against his cheek, and slowly, Chenle presses a kiss against Jisung’s temple, feather-light. By the time Jisung allows himself to look at Chenle, Chenle’s lying back down again. He burrows his head deeper into Jisung’s side, his eyes slipping shut again, and Jisung waits in silence until his breathing evens out. 

Jisung tightens his hold around Chenle and allows himself to breathe in Chenle’s scent, a mix of freshly-washed laundry and the ivory soap he uses. It’s all painfully familiar, a sense of normalcy that Jisung misses more than ever. But Chenle isn’t fazed by any of this. He doesn’t mind that Jisung has super speed or can’t be in sunlight for too long or _drinks blood._ He treats Jisung the same way, as if this is the new normal. Because in a way, it is. 

Maybe it’s time for him to stop being scared, too. 

—

Jisung lets Chenle sleep into the late hours of the morning, sneaking out around ten to cook Chenle mediocre eggs. He ends up burning the edges, but the sleepy smile Chenle gives him once he emerges from Jisung’s room makes it all worth it.

“We’re raiding the blood banks tomorrow,” Chenle announces as he cuts through his fried eggs with his chopsticks.

“Chenle,” Jisung sighs. “You do realize I could just ask Ten or someone to get me blood? It wouldn't be that hard. Plus, I feel fine. I think you gave me enough to last me a while, like at least until my next training session.”

“You could just drink from me.” Chenle looks up from his plate with a curious tilt of his head. “It would work out really well.”

“Yeah, no.” Even though Chenle’s blood seems to be the only type Jisung can remotely _stand_ , he’s not about to put Chenle in danger of severe blood loss. 

Chenle bites his lip, then continues to eat. “Just saying, it’s more convenient.”

Jisung glares at him. “Do you _want_ to get bitten that badly?”

Chenle raises his eyebrows at Jisung, as if proposing a challenge. “I don’t know. Do I?”

“Don’t joke about that,” Jisung mutters. 

“But what if—” Chenle purses his lips, playing with a chopstick. He exhales. “What if I told you there was a way for me to live forever? Like you?”

Jisung stiffens. “Don’t—please don’t give me hypotheticals.” The selfish part of him is begging, _screaming_ for Chenle to stay with him for the eternity he’s doomed to live on earth, but he doesn’t want to subject Chenle to a forever that he might not want.

“I have a way to live forever like you. With you," Chenle says instead, point-blank. 

Jisung’s blinks, his throat going dry. Something about this all feels so wrong, yet he wants it so badly. “Chenle—”

“Hear me out for a second. There’s this… potion-thing that I got from a warlock. It’s like an elixir of life. I’ve been holding off on, you know, _drinking_ it, because I wanted to tell you. See what you think, I guess.” Chenle’s tongue pokes against his cheek as he studies Jisung. 

“Do you want this?” Jisung asks in lieu of a proper response, voice thick. He doesn’t want to betray his own feelings, because he knows this is a decision that'll ultimately change the course of Chenle’s life; it isn't Jisung's decision to make. The concept of eternity sounds so different in theory than in reality, but he trusts Chenle to make the right choice for himself. 

“I do. I do want this.” 

Jisung snaps his gaze up to meet Chenle’s. Chenle sounds so sure that Jisung’s taken aback, but his jaw is set, resolute, and that’s how Jisung knows he had made up his mind long before asking.

“Then—then I guess that’s your choice,” Jisung says softly.

Chenle smiles. “I guess it is.”

“So we’re watching the earth implode together?”

“Sheesh, so morbid,” Chenle says with a roll of his eyes. “It’ll be fun! We can make a whole party out of it.” Chenle stands to clean off his dish, and Jisung trails after Chenle into the kitchen.

“Do you have anything planned for the day?” Chenle asks as he runs the plate under the faucet. 

“Nope.” Jisung hooks his head on Chenle’s shoulder and grimaces when Chenle splashes a bit of water on his face. He kicks Chenle’s calf in retaliation, and Chenle giggles.

“How do you feel about just staying in my bed all day and doing nothing?”

“Fine by me.” He blows cool air in Chenle’s ear to make him yelp, then grabs his phone from the counter and wanders away to Chenle’s room. He makes a spot for himself on the right side of the bed, settling there with a content hum.

Chenle barges in a minute later and throws himself onto the bed. Jisung edges further to the side of the bed so Chenle’s sprawling limbs won’t hit him. Turning onto his back, Chenle grins at Jisung before taking his phone out of his pocket and holding it above him as he scrolls through it.

“You know, the last few times we were here you were crying,” Chenle points out as he taps away at his screen, likely texting someone.

“Shut up.” Jisung nudges him with his foot and Chenle shoots him a dirty look before returning to his phone. “Are you feeling better, though? From yesterday?”

“I’m fine, you really don’t need to keep asking, Sung.” Chenle scoots towards the head of the bed, snuggling into the pillows as he drops his phone onto the sheets and turns to look at Jisung. “I got a cool scar from it, though. You can barely see it, but I like it.”

“Sorry,” Jisung says anyways with a wince. 

“Don’t be! We match now.” Chenle grins, holding his wrist up to Jisung’s neck, where the wounds have faded into an identical scar. Jisung gently takes Chenle’s wrist into his own hand and traces over the silver lines left by his fangs. He swallows, then slots their fingers together.

“Thanks.”

Chenle smiles. “Anytime.” He moves closer towards Jisung and lowers his head onto Jisung’s chest, giving him plenty of time to shove Chenle away. He doesn’t. He wraps his arms around Chenle instead, just as they did the night before, just as they used to do before Jisung was thrown into a world of sudden blood cravings and supernatural abilities.

Chenle pulls his phone out of his pocket, but he doesn’t seem to be doing much on it. Jisung busies himself with mapping out the details of Chenle’s features with a cautious eye: the perfect slope of his nose, the black eyelashes framing his almond-shaped eyes, the curve of his lips.

It’s always been different having Chenle here, next to him, than on the other end of a couch or sitting on opposite sides of a table. There’s a certain calmness to feeling the rise and fall of Chenle’s chest, his fingers flush against Chenle’s abdomen and arm. Jisung absently thinks he’s lucky to be able to hold Chenle so near. 

“I missed this,” Chenle suddenly admits, but his voice is barely above a whisper. 

There are so many things that could mean. He could have missed their easy close proximity, or being in Jisung’s embrace like this, warm with life. But it doesn’t really matter, because for whatever Chenle’s referring to, Jisung knows he feels the same way. They’ve always been in sync like that.

“I missed you,” Jisung murmurs in reply.

And there are so many things that could mean as well. It’s not like Chenle’s been away from Jisung for a while, or that Chenle’s been avoiding him. It’s not like the warmth seeping through Chenle’s skin is unfamiliar. 

It’s a confession that Jisung’s tired of running from an inevitable truth and forcing himself to lose things he doesn’t _need_ to lose. Everything has changed past the point of return, and it’s fruitless to try to loop back. Time marches forward to the sound of a drum, to the sound of a heart that no longer beats in Jisung’s chest, but he can still hear the rhythmic thudding in Chenle’s, and that’s how he knows time won’t leave him behind if he doesn’t let it.

He doesn’t need to say any of that, though; Chenle already knows. 

Chenle looks up at Jisung, and there it is again, the unbridled fondness that Jisung would die for. “There’s nothing to miss. You’ll always have me.” 

Jisung swallows. “Always is a long time.”

Chenle’s eyes sparkle as he says, “I know.”

He turns around in Jisung’s grasp until his legs are bracketing Jisung’s lap. He rests a hand on Jisung’s chest, still holding Jisung’s hand with his other. They’re not doing anything but looking, staring, so unabashedly because Jisung wants to remember Chenle forever, etch this image into his brain so soundly that even centuries from now, he can pluck it from the recesses of his mind like a well-worn photograph. Jisung’s not sure if he needs to do any of this, but Chenle has always been worth every bit of effort Jisung puts in.

“Hi there,” Chenle mumbles, leaning over and touching his forehead to Jisung’s.

“Hey.” Jisung presses his nose against Chenle’s for a second before reaching over and opening the blinds to Chenle’s windows, letting sunlight flood the room. It basks Chenle in an almost ethereal glow, and he can make out the sparkle in Chenle’s eye, the smile tugging at Chenle’s lips. 

Jisung leans down and kisses him. 

It’s warm. 

Sunlight dances on his skin, in his eyes and on his lips, and Jisung thinks it’s a beautiful thing, to be able to hold the sun in the palms of his hands. “Always,” Chenle whispers against his lips again and again like a promise, a prayer, and Jisung hungrily drinks in each one. 

And between it all, Jisung realizes that while he isn't too keen on the idea of eternity, Chenle might just change his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed reading about these boys<33 i love them so much. they are so good and were an absolute delight to write  
> happy holidays everyone:) stay safe!
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/jisunflwer) & [cc](https://curiouscat.me/jisunflwr)


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